Heart of Bone
by Die Biene
Summary: GrimmIchi. It's a story about Grimmjow and Ichigo having lots of sexual tension, along with shenanigans, accompanied by plenty of meddling from Aizen and Nel. AU based in canon, events diverge from the current Hueco Mundo arc. WIP.
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Acknowledgments: thanks to Q for reading and support.

Disclaimer: The following is a fanwork and the characters used here belong to their respective owners and copyright holders.

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Grimmjow knelt at the feet of Aizen's throne, the cold stone of the floors of Las Noches seeping through his hakama. He didn't like bowing to this man but he had little choice: after their resounded defeat in the mortal world, Aizen and his surviving arrancar had retreated to Hueco Mundo, sealing their dimension off from Soul Society or any other pursuers. There was no chance of an invasion by the pursuing shinigami forces, and no escape for Grimmjow if he wanted to, not that he was particularly inclined to leave. Grimmjow was merely thankful to be alive.

Aizen shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and resting his hand against a lazy fist. Grimmjow watched the other man surreptitiously, still at Aizen's feet, his gaze darting away when Aizen met it. "Why are you kneeling? Grimmjow."

"You called for me, Aizen-sama."

"I did," Aizen acknowledged, his voice lilting with amusement. "But that doesn't explain things. Stand up."

Grimmjow stood, though he kept his eyes lowered. The barest hint of a smile was lifting Aizen's lips and Grimmjow could feel sweat itching down his back under his loose jacket. He had gone against this man many times, without considering anything other than cornering his prey; Grimmjow had never anticipated living to face the consequences and a dread unlike any he'd experienced before crept through is bones.

"That's better," Aizen said. There was a long pause as if Aizen was waiting for a response, though Grimmjow knew enough to keep his mouth shut. "You're so subdued. This isn't like you at all."

Aizen let the silence drag out until Grimmjow felt his skin burn under the shinigami's eyes.

"You're worried that I'm angry at you. Why is that?"

"I don't understand why wouldn't you be angry with me, Aizen-sama—"

Aizen made a short _tut_-ing sound that turned into a gentle chuckle; Grimmjow raised his eyes for a moment to see Aizen smiling and it made rage and embarrassed shame burst in him. He looked away, his jaw clenching before he said anything to make his situation worse and his hands ached for how tightly they were held in white-knuckled fists.

"And now you're addressing me so respectfully, that won't do either. Are you truly so afraid, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques?"

Grimmjow said nothing, though he longed to, and Aizen's expression turned into a pouting frown.

"You're worried that I'll punish you for seeking out the ryoka, even when I told you not to. You even took the girl, Inoue, with you—stole her, to be exact, for your own ends—so you could fight with one of our enemies personally, even after he'd been defeated. You were then defeated yourself, and healed at the hands of the enemy—are you embarrassed because of that?"

Grimmjow said nothing, realizing that Aizen wanted to provoke him. He met the shinigami's eyes, his own burning with the shame his accusations brought out; Grimmjow's stomach hurt for how hard it was to breath through the tightness in his chest.

Aizen smiled. "Hmm. Perhaps this will be an experience you should learn from."

"Even if I lost against him, I didn't let him escape!" Grimmjow seethed.

"Indeed, but at what cost?" Aizen raised one eyebrow questioningly. "All of the others escaped. According to Ulquiorra, you _let_ them escape in exchange for just this one. Where is he, by the way?"

"The infirmary," Grimmjow spat.

"You ought to be more careful with your toys," Aizen said, enigmatic smile still raising his lips.

Grimmjow could feel all of his excuses rising in his chest and they poured out in a hurried rush. "You said it yourself, you had no more use for that woman! This one is stronger, and I thought maybe—maybe he would be more important, you could use him, since we'd already lost—"

Aizen's reiatsu pressure hit him like a sudden thunderclap, bringing Grimmjow to his knees and stealing his breath as though there was a hand pressed against his chest, forcing it out. Aizen hadn't moved at all but his eyes burned with reiraku, watching Grimmjow gasp and writhe on the ground with the same expression he'd worn throughout their entire conversation.

Aizen's voice was cold. "If you truly believe this boy is stronger, you have no understanding of what strength is at all."

Grimmjow's back bowed forward painfully, his neck bared to Aizen and a whine slipping past his lips as he attempted to deny it.

"Grimmjow, I realize you expect me to be angry, and to punish you, but I have no intention of doing so—you are a product of your nature, and there is very little I can do to correct that." He relaxed in his chair, and Grimmjow could feel the suffocating reiatsu retreat. He gasped for air, shivering. "Short of destroying you, that is."

Aizen continued. "This independence…Kaname always found it such a nuisance, but I believe it to be the most endearing part of your character. Do not expect me to punish you for it, especially when it brings about such surprising and useful ends."

"I—then Kurosaki will be useful to you?" Grimmjow wasn't exactly sure what to say.

"What?" Aizen seemed genuinely surprised. "Don't be ridiculous." He waved a dismissive hand, "I was referring to your engaging the shinigami forces—even abducting our prisoner from her cell served its uses. We required an extended distraction in order to lure Soul Society into the living world, that was truly all the interest I held in these ryoka.

"And in this way, I am not angered at you, Grimmjow. Though you do not realize it, your rebellious nature has always demonstrated an over-eager desire to serve. On the contrary, I am quite grateful to you."

Aizen sighed, and to Grimmjow, it seemed rather dramatic. "I blame myself, honestly. Had I included you Espada in our plans, perhaps fewer of you would've died needlessly. We ought to meet more frequently while we wait for Seireitei to make its next move."

Grimmjow's mouth felt dry—he wasn't sure how to respond; Aizen, _apologizing_? And how could he not see the power in that shinigami brat? To be truthful, Grimmjow hadn't captured Kurosaki out of any favor to the exiled shinigami; things had only come to that once Aizen and the remaining Espada returned from the material world. Grimmjow remember waking after the battle in Hueco Mundo with their forces destroyed and a woman standing over him, healing his injuries—she was a shinigami, he could tell, with a dark braid around her neck.

He'd blacked out again after coming around for the first time and when he woke, he was alone and uninjured. When he tried, he could sense shinigami all around him but at a distance, they were in separate groups streaming towards open garganta and Grimmjow's mind zeroed in on one reiatsu alone amongst all of them—he had to find that brat, things weren't finished between them and Grimmjow would be damned before he let Kurosaki escape without a fight.

Aizen's voice drew him back to the present, "I realize you have a particular interest in this shinigami boy, but I'm afraid that I do not share it. He's yours to do with whatever you will, if that will keep you from seeking out trouble for the time being."

"Aizen-sa—" Grimmjow stopped himself before he completed the honorific, his entire body vibrating with excitement and hardly able to form words with his trembling lips. "Thank you."

Aizen simply smiled and Grimmjow rose, turning as if in a daze, his feet taking him out of the room. He should've been relived and excited for escaping from his creator so easily but his stomach shivered with a different desire, unable to breathe and all because of Kurosaki—he was his, _his_. And not simply because he'd bested the little fuck, not because Kurosaki had given himself over willingly; Kurosaki was his without question, Aizen had _given_ him to Grimmjow. His muscles were aching with anticipation and he just couldn't _wait_ to find the little fuck, tear him out of his infirmary bed and slam him up against a wall—show him just who he _belonged_ to, and watch Ichigo writhe and whimper.

Grimmjow's mouth hurt from smiling but he stopped as Aizen called after him—"Try not to break him quickly, Grimmjow. You took so many measures to acquire this boy…it would pain me to see you destroy him so easily."

Grimmjow nodded once, not willing to trust what his voice would sound like. Euphoric and dizzy, most likely—the bitterness of having to serve under Aizen was disappearing like mist, he could feel a sense of almost reverence following in its footsteps; Grimmjow had never considered Aizen truly to be his master but he could follow the shinigami easily, now that he'd been given everything that he wanted. It was the same feeling Grimmjow had known when he'd been drawn to the exiled captain as a simple adjucas; Aizen's reiatsu was addictive and intoxicating, as though if Grimmjow followed him, the entire world would crumble before them.

Kurosaki would be the one crumbling now. Grimmjow extended his pesquisa until he could feel Kurosaki easily somewhere in the complex, the old infirmary that hadn't been used in ages and on the tip of Grimmjow's tongue was the taste of the little prick's blood along with the word his mind kept replaying over and over: his, _his_.

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Thank you for reading, please review/critique! :D


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Thanks to everyone for reading and giving feedback! It's appreciated :3

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There was a cool hand covering Ichigo's forehead; it was soothing compared to the aches and pains in his muscles and the fever burning his skin. There was a familiar feel to it, a smell or something indescribable—he mumbled, not knowing the words he was trying to say until his eyelids unglued themselves and fluttered. His surroundings were very bright and he flinched, wincing.

"Finally awake, sleepyhead?"

It was a woman's voice, light and excited. Ichigo knew it, somehow, but couldn't place it until he saw her figure hovering over him—something familiar, the color green…

Ichigo rocketed upwards, nearly colliding with the other person. He gasped as pain erupted in his chest, unable to breathe and his head spun. Hands on his shoulders forced him down until he lay flat on his back, moaning.

"Take it easy, dummy, I'm excited to see you too!"

"Nel?"

She held up a single finger, her eyes squinting shut against an enormous smile. "Got it in one! You're not so bad off as I thought."

The room was blindingly white through Ichigo's milky vision. "Where are we?"

Nel shrugged, "The infirmary, I think." She was apparently unperturbed by their surroundings.

Ichigo blinked before flopping an arm over his eyes, the whiteness searing. "Nel, we're in Las Noches."

"So?" She asked it as though it was the most natural place to be. "And wow, you got that too—you're way better off than I worried you'd be!"

Ichigo peeked out from between his fingers; Nel was still smiling, and more importantly, she was _huge_. Well, huge for Nel, Ichigo thought; he was used to her being the size of an easily-portable sack of potatoes. She was wearing a while outfit, the uniform of the Espada—it should've been Ichigo's first clue, but he refused to acknowledge it, or possibly his mind simply couldn't process.

"Nel, what _happened_?"

"I dunno—I wasn't there," she said. "Well, I wasn't wherever you were when you got caught. I think Grimmjow was behind that, he beat you up pretty bad."

Ichigo made a mumbling groan, covering his eyes again. Grimmjow. That made sense—in fact, it brought a lot back. They'd been running…he tried to remember who he was with; he'd fought Ulquiorra to a draw and then stole Inoue away, joining up with Rukia and Renji. Everyone was rushing along with him; the garganta had reopened and they all had to get through. Inoue had healed him, partially; they couldn't spare the time and Ichigo could feel his injuries tearing as they all raced to leave their prison.

Before he knew it, Grimmjow was upon them, a blue flame that Ichigo shrank from. He didn't want to—he couldn't believe the other man was still alive, though he felt relief and couldn't place why. Grimmjow was a threat to all of them, and they _had_ to escape but the arrancar had become so strong—Ichigo couldn't match him in the shape he was in so he'd said, _"Take me instead_…"

"Nel," Ichigo said, presently. "Nel, you've gotta help me. You gotta get me outta here."

"Oh, Ichigo." And she pressed her hand against his face; it seemed almost maternal, confusing from the child he'd known her as before. "I would if I could."

Ichigo dropped the hand from across his eyes and stared at her. "What?"

"I know it seems hard—and maybe it should, you only saw me as a little kid before, but I was Espada, once. I was an arrancar." She chewed at her lower lip before touching the crown-mask on her head. Ichigo realized it was no longer broken, though the scar on her face remained. "That hasn't changed, and it's all because of Aizen. You think he's cruel, but…"

"That's because _he is_," Ichigo snapped. "He's a traitor, and I don't care what he did for you—"

"Just listen!" And Ichigo did, immediately. Nel's reiatsu was frightening. "We were all almost mindless before, but we followed him, we did it willingly. Because he's strong and fearless and—" she sighed, as it if were too difficult to explain in words. "He was something we all could be, something to admire. He never had to force us, and now that he's given me my rank back, I will again."

Her eyes seemed so kind, and so sad, as though she pitied Ichigo for not being able to realize the source to her obvious loyalty. Ichigo felt as though something were fading inside him, dying—how could Nel, innocent and naïve, be so won-over by a betrayer? Ichigo pressed both hands against his eyes, rubbing the salt out of them. "You've been blinded. It's what he's best at, drawing the wool over people's eyes and using them. He doesn't _care_ about you, can't you see that?"

"Just give it a chance. Why do you follow Soul Society, anyway?"

Ichigo could hear a hint of bitterness in her voice and wanted to shut her words out; they were hatefully true because he didn't know, and he wanted to say that he _didn't_ follow them entirely. It just seemed right, and he'd begun this stupid business to protect people and the things he loved—after all, it wasn't the forces of Soul Society that mindlessly consumed others. Things had been very simple before this business with the arrancar, easy to tell the difference between savages and the civilized. He realized he'd never actually considered Nel an arrancar and realizing now that she was meant that he was truly without allies.

Ichigo sat up abruptly; for the first time, he noticed that he was very naked. He drew the sheet covering him tightly around his waist. "Where're my clothes!"

"Don't get mad at me! They were pretty well ruined by the time you were finished with them," Nel said, shrugging with both hands held away from her sides. "I can heal most any wounds but you're on your own if you tear up your uniform."

Ichigo glared at her spitefully, feeling his face redden in embarrassment. He felt silly; it was just _Nel_. He paused, frowning. _Healing_…"Wait, what?"

Nel stuck the tip of her tongue between her lips, smiling. "I know it'll gross you out, but I _am_ useful for some things."

Ichigo remembered the way she'd vomited a fountain of saliva on Dordonii following his defeat; Ichigo shivered, feeling as green as Nel's hair. He gaped at her, "You _drooled_ on me?"

"Fuck, shut your goddamn mouth. I can hear your squawking all the way down the corridor."

Ichigo twisted around abruptly and winced at the head rush. He glared through it, "_Grimmjow_."

"How's it going, shinigami?" Grimmjow smiled viciously. His fist snapped out and popped Ichigo right in the side of the head, making Ichigo's eyes roll as he sank to his elbows. "Your head's still attached, but doesn't look like it's by much. What the fuck?" Grimmjow turned to Nel and glared. "Thought you said you could take care of him, eh? He's barely in one piece!"

"And that's _your fault_, asshole!" Nel snapped. Ichigo almost wanted to be offended by her language. "And don't break him before he's even had a chance!"

"Che, you're just trying to cover for the fact that you can't do _shit_," Grimmjow sneered. "Aizen only gave you your rank back just because'a that row of tits you got."

To Ichigo's surprise, Nel laughed, a high-pitched, girlish cackle; it reminded him of the time he'd been stuck drinking with Renji; Rangiku had gotten spectacularly smashed and made a complete fool of herself, or at least that was the way Ichigo'd seen it.

Nel turned towards him conspiratorially, "Look, Ichigo, the kitty-kitty has claws."

"Watch it, bitch—"

"Grimmjow likes to pretend he's so strong and scary, but I remember when Aizen-sama first transformed him and he was like a tottering kitten, his legs too weak to hold him—"

"Shut up!" Grimmjow's face was livid and pink; he made a grab for Nel which she neatly avoided. Ichigo felt trapped between them and their increasingly vicious barbs. "At least I ain't a hag like you!"

"Wait, you _knew_ each other?" Ichigo said, and shrank as both pairs of eyes turned towards him.

Nel smiled, "Not really, Grimmjow was just a baby when I got kicked out."

"Was never no goddamn _baby_—"

"You were _so_, not more than a month old." Nel stuck her tongue out towards the other arrancar and blew him a raspberry. "I was Espada for more than a year before you came along."

"Then Nnoitra smacked you one good in the head and tossed you out in the desert," Grimmjow snarled. "Must not've been much of an _Espada_ if it was that easy."

"Wait, Nel," Ichigo started, confused. "You were Espada for _years_? But—Aizen had only defected for months before the arrancar invaded the real world—"

Nel shrugged dismissively, as if Ichigo were very slow. "Time passes differently here, silly. I don't know what it is exactly, but there're years for every month in the real world."

Ichigo could feel something inside himself sinking sharply, like a stone. If he was trapped here and the others had all escaped—he couldn't have been in Hueco Mundo alone for more than a week, but what would that be on the outside? A day or a single hour?

He would be an old man once they found him, though his body would never age—

"Che, you shinigami always act like it's so noble and fitting to have us minus-souls stuck off in this world, eh, and for what? I don't even remember what I did to land here'n I'm living with this hunger for more lifetimes than any human?" Grimmjow spat on the floor and returned his glare to Ichigo. "What's fair about that, huh?"

"Whatever you did, I'm sure you deserve it!" Ichigo snapped. Grimmjow was the last person who was going to make him feel guilty, especially now that he was stuck with the bastard.

"Look on the bright side, punk," Grimmjow snarled, and his hand shot forward to fist itself in Ichigo's hair and drag their faces together. "Now you're gonna share it with me."

"What the fuck're you talking about, Grimmjow?" Ichigo twisted sharply away from the other man and felt his hair rip in Grimmjow's hold. He winced and drew the cloth covering himself closer. Ichigo didn't like the eyes Grimmjow had on him; they were possessive.

"Don't tell me you don't remember, eh? And after you begged me so pretty." Grimmjow laughed and it was nasty, mean. His mouth sneered cruelly as he mimed, "'You can have me if that's what you want! Let the others go—'"

"I did _not_!" Ichigo snapped, incensed. Though, now that Grimmjow said it, Ichigo's memory was supplying exactly those words. He remembered them running to the garganta because Aizen's forces had fallen, they were retreating to Hueco Mundo and the fabric between the two worlds was fragile—Urahara had opened the four garganta the Soul Society captains had used to invade Las Noches and it was their only escape.

Only when Grimmjow had found him—and Grimmjow was so healed, it wasn't _fair_; Ichigo would've fought him to let them all escape together but neither he nor his friends could've done it—it was the only solution Ichigo could think of and he couldn't let Inoue go back to being captive. Her eyes were so shadowed and he hated that she'd been through months of this treatment alone. She deserved better, and it was the best Ichigo could do just to not let her fall into their hands again. And he knew Grimmjow wouldn't be able to resist an offer of Ichigo's own life.

So Ichigo had made that decision in an instant, even though Renji and Rukia and Ishida balked at him, disbelieving—Ichigo hadn't realized it at the time, but he'd never thought he'd have to live with it. He'd expected Grimmjow to kill him.

"Yeah, you did," Grimmjow said, his mocking voice jerking Ichigo's attention back. "And if you can't admit to it you're less of a man than I already doubted you were.

"But it don't much matter, does it? I got you back here just so Aizen'd let me into his good graces, seeing as how you've thoroughly wrecked 'em for me." He poked a finger into Ichigo's bare chest. "It's gonna kill you, shinigami, but he doesn't seem to care about you as a prisoner. He gave you over to me."

Grimmjow's smile widened until it mimicked his half-masked jaw. "How's that feel, huh? To belong to _me_."

Ichigo slapped Grimmjow's hand off of him, glaring. "Whatever, Grimmjow. What the fuck _ever_, if that's what you need to make yourself feel better."

"Don't gotta make _myself_ feel better; fuck, I won against you last time. Broke you into tiny fucking pieces for this girly to put back together." He jerked a thumb toward Nel derisively.

Ichigo laughed sharply, "You call that winning? If that's what you call fair, than you've got less honor than I ever thought—"

Grimmjow's lip had curled off his teeth and Ichigo was so consumed with glaring at the other man that he didn't notice the first slamming towards his face until Nel caught it.

"Now, now, children, there's enough time for that," she said, smiling benignly. Her gaze shifted to Grimmjow, clenching his wrist tightly. "Unless you _really_ only think you can beat him when he's like this, pussy cat."

Grimmjow jerked away from her, eyes still fixed on Ichigo, "Heh, you always did have someone covering your ass."

"And you always had enough excuses for both of us," Ichigo snapped, drawing the sheet around his waist and looping his legs over the side of the infirmary table. He took two steps before a ringing sound pierced his ears; his eyes didn't seem to want to focus and he was going to vomit. Ichigo put a hand to his mouth to stop it—

He came to a moment later in a heap on the floor with Nel hovering over him. She was saying, "Now see what you did, you asshole!"

"Fuck, put some clothes on him!" Grimmjow snarled.

Ichigo could feel his own pulse on his tongue like the slamming of heavy iron doors. There was white in his vision but he couldn't tell if he was looking at the ceiling or the floor. Or the walls, or Nel; it didn't seem to matter very much. The sharp points of his body, his elbows and knees and cheekbone ached sharply from falling upon them.

Grimmjow's voice had a strange echo to it. "Aizen wants to see him when he's able to walk to get there."

Then Nel was gathering him up in her arms and Ichigo made a mumbling protest. He tried to hold the cloth around himself but his fingers felt numb; he tried to swallow, thickly, and then his vision grayed and narrowed before he lost consciousness.


	3. 3

Happy New Year to everyone! Thanks for reading :) I value all comments and feedback.

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Ichigo tugged the sleeves of his uniform towards his hands, they were slightly too short. He didn't like this outfit—too much white for an already too-white world. He would catch portions of himself from the corner of his eye and startle, as though seeing an enemy; Ichigo was much more comfortable with catching flashing of black.

He wasn't sure where Nel had gotten the uniform but she seemed to find it very fitting. It resembled his bankai coat, though not entirely; it was closer in the throat with a high collar, and more tailored at his waist. Ichigo didn't want to be wearing it for very long; it felt like a betrayal of many things.

She led him to what Ichigo could only assume was Aizen's audience chamber—a wide open room with a throne in the center, upon which the shinigami traitor sat. Nel knelt at his feet and Ichigo did the same.

"Please stop, Neliel," Aizen said. "You know how little respect I place in formalities."

Ichigo glanced at the female Espada; she was smiling gently. Was this all it took to sway her? Ichigo glared at the floor.

"Give us some time together," Aizen was saying. "I promise to return Kurosaki to you at once."

Nel left without speaking, giving Ichigo a look of reassurance. Ichigo remained, staring away from Aizen for long moments. He felt deeply uncomfortable; helpless without his zanpakutou.

"Do you hate me, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo stole a glance at the other man, seated high above him. Aizen appeared contemplative, and Ichigo looked determinedly at the floor.

"Yes," he said.

"Now, why is that? I do not hate you. Surely you don't hold enough faith in Seireitei to hate me on principle."

Ichigo felt his shoulders hunch, glaring at the foot of Aizen's throne. "It's because of Rukia."

"Ah," Aizen's voice was amused and light. "I cannot blame you for that."

Ichigo could hear cloth shift as the other shinigami stood, descending from the high throne. "It's because of what I did to her, am I right?"

Ichigo didn't move, even when Aizen drew alongside him. "But you hold no ill regards towards Urahara Kisuke. He was the one who involved her in the first place. I simply took advantage of a favorable situation. One cannot blame me for that."

Ichigo met the other man's eyes, scowling. "You're trying to turn me against my friends. It won't work, so _stop_."

"Heh," Aizen gave a short chuckle. "I attempt no such thing." He turned, his back to Ichigo as he left the room through a different entrance than the one Ichigo and Nel had taken previously. Ichigo _ached_ for a sword, to end everything in a moment, to take Aizen's life. "Walk with me. I deplore formalities, as you may have noticed. I find this room terribly oppressive."

Ichigo followed him, walking a step behind the other man. Aizen continued, "I know better than to ask if your current arrangement suits you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean serving Grimmjow," Aizen's gaze turned towards him briefly.

Ichigo stood with his spine very straight, glaring at the other man, a challenge if Aizen would take him up on it. "What do you want from me, Aizen?"

The exiled shinigami seemed rather surprised. "Want from you? What gives the impression that I want anything from you?"

"You kidnapped me—"

"On the contrary, _Grimmjow_ kidnapped you. I personally have little interest."

"But you wanted Inoue. That's why I let Grimmjow take me, to leave her out of this—"

Aizen began laughing in a manner that spoke of great amusement; it was extremely irritating. "I had little actual use for her, as you may recall. Your friend's powers…well. They are magnificent. But ultimately, quite useless to me; you certainly give yourself too much credit in thinking that I care at all in having you as a prisoner."

"Why then, huh?" Ichigo said, and his breath was coming in tight angry pulls. "Why keep me alive, I'll only try to undermine you. Don't think I won't!"

"Oh, I have no doubt. However," Aizen said, his gaze shifting from Ichigo out the open window. "I simply do not see the use in shinigami. _Any_ shinigami; your own sense of self-worth is quite overblown.

"Make no mistake, Kurosaki, I only care to keep you because it pleases Grimmjow. And that pleases me, to have my subordinates amenable. I have a vested interest in keeping Grimmjow content. As you may have realized, our forces have been significantly reduced. I must do what I can to retain my current Espada." Aizen gazed through the open window and Ichigo could see the vast expanse of Las Noches through it, beneath the dome that held fake sky and sunlight. It seemed like a ridiculous expenditure of reiatsu, to simply keep the appearance of it.

"You're quite similar; I believe that is the essence of Grimmjow's interest. He is very much a creature of instinct and must destroy that which is stronger, but even more, he must conquer those who're equal to him. He knows enough to bow to a superior strength, but for the two of you," Aizen paused, sighing. "You are simply too matched for him to do anything but make you subservient. He requires you, in order to assure his own strength."

Ichigo said nothing. He couldn't think of anything to say; Aizen's speech was too accurate and it tore at him, knowing that he wasn't kept here and alive because he was strong or special or useful; Ichigo was a mere plaything for the underling of a murderer.

"In your captive defeat, you are evidence to others of his power," Aizen glanced at him, and there was a subtle smile on his lips. "He must constantly keep you subdued, because you are so matched. He is not assured of each victory, but each time he has it is a reminder of his strength—but should you win against him—"

"I _won't_ serve you in his place!" Ichigo snapped. Aizen was luring him with promises, temptations Ichigo had no interest in.

"Ahh, you certainly are quick," Aizen turned his eyes on Ichigo fully. "I knew you must've been quite strong to make it this far in Soul Society, but I had no idea you would be intelligent as well. This is where you will triumph over Grimmjow, should you ever learn to use it against him."

"I'm not interested in your empty words," Ichigo spat, but Aizen did not appear the least bit dissuaded.

"A pity. But do remember, the offer remains," Aizen said, turning his eyes away with a short sound. "Not the offer precisely—the promise. Should you demonstrate yourself more powerful, enough to overcome Grimmjow—I will grant you anything you wish."

"Even if it's to get the fuck out of here?"

Aizen answered with the barest inclination of his head. "Even that."

Ichigo seethed; he would take mindless violence over tricks of the mind and self-betrayal. "Why're you doing this? I won't turn against my friends, stop trying to make me—"

"If your loyalty was easily bought, I would've approached you earlier. I know this is not the case."

Ichigo shivered, feeling trapped under the other man's reiatsu; it was like when he was training with Urahara: the shopkeeper was so disarming at times but then showed a spiritual presence that could destroy all of Ichigo's world if he couldn't stand against it. He knew the difference here was simply that they stood on opposite sides of a divide—Aizen would offer the opportunity to avoid being crushed but Ichigo knew he could never accept it; he would die first.

"I am a very patient man, Kurosaki. And in my patience—and boredom—I look forward to see which one of you, either Grimmjow or yourself, folds first."

And then he turned away from Ichigo, as though that were all he had to say. Ichigo could tell a dismissal when he'd been given one but wasn't about to leave without a fight. "Where's my zanpakuo? You can't expect to see a good fight without it."

"Indeed," Aizen murmured, not even turning towards him. "I would ask Grimmjow. I'm sure he still has it, having taken it from you."

Ichigo stood angrily behind the other man, unsure of what to say, until Aizen dismissed him clearly: "That is all. Neliel is waiting for you."

Ichigo couldn't do anything other than turn on the ball of his foot and march out of the room, following the path Nel had taken. His face burned with embarrassment; Aizen treated him like an insolent child, a distraction for of all people _Grimmjow_—

His stomach hurt for so hard it was clenched. He wasn't as strong as he once was; wasn't as strong as when he'd fought Grimmjow in his released form but Ichigo knew, deeply, that he could defeat the other man. Defeat him and defeat Aizen—he would escape this place, no matter how many months or years it required.

* * *

"So cruel of you."

Aizen glanced into the shadowed corner where Gin was resting. "You were watching?"

"I'm always watching," Gin said, and sidled up towards him. "It passes the time."

They both watched the open window to the space under the blue-skyed dome of Las Noches; Ichigo Kurosaki was walking, his back stiff and movements robotic as he crossed the sand. Neliel Tu Odervaschank ran up to him suddenly, her green hair streaming out under the helmet of her mask as she pounced on him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Wicked of you," Gin said. "Seems so, giving him to a'animal like Grimmjow. She'd be nicer to the poor li'l guy."

"He requires cruelty, the same as Grimmjow does. Neither would grow without it."

They saw, together, as Ichigo shoved the woman off of him but she continued, following after and grasping his hand.

"I'm glad t'have her back, she was always one o'my favorites," Gin said.

"Ah," Aizen responded. He found that Ichigo was very much an enigma, just as Neliel was. So much conviction and loyalty without a sense of purpose or direction. It was disappointing that Kurosaki remained undissuaded from the course of the shinigami.

He felt despondent for a moment; perhaps it was that Gin's words stuck too close to his center. "They always called me wicked, in Seireitei. The ones beneath the captains—they never realize that to grow into a whole, the chaff must be stripped away. It is never cruel; it is necessity."

"And you never did mind playin' the villain."

"No," Aizen sighed, sinking back for a moment against Gin's hand as it came to rest between his shoulderblades. "The sadness is in knowing that I will have been dead for years before the true evils of Soul Society are realized."

"They'll see, soon enough. When Karakura is stripped from all planes, they'll see." Gin's lips were against his ear, and Aizen could feel the smile that spread them, though this time he knew it was genuine. "And then we'll have ever'thing, the ouken and loyalty from all of 'em. Patience."

Aizen watched the two figures in their window until they passed out of sight before he turned to face the other man, his hands reaching.


	4. 4

Hello! \o/ Thanks to Q for beta'ing this chapter, and thanks to everyone who's given their feedback.

* * *

Nel was holding his hand chastely, the same way Ichigo's first girlfriend had. Ichigo could feel his palm begin to sweat; with Nel like she was—she was even taller than Ichigo—he couldn't help but feel strangely embarrassed. He remembered how she'd clung to him with tiny fists as they raced all along these corridors and wondered how it wouldn't feel awkward.

"You're awfully quiet," she said.

"Ah!" Ichigo startled. "Sorry."

"Did it go well?" She was smiling and biting her lip, a familiar expression that Ichigo was glad to recognize.

"What d'you mean?"

"I just mean—he's kind, isn't he? I hope he was like that to you."

"He was. I guess," Ichigo responded, and Nel swung their entwined hands lazily.

"That's always what I liked about him best, you don't expect it here. Kindness. And he doesn't use it needlessly, just enough—" She squeezed his hand before letting it go, turning to face him. "Don't think I'm stupid for saying that. It takes more to win me over. I know you hate him because he's strong or for whatever he's done in Soul Society, but we're very alone, here. He gave us something to gather towards, a purpose."

Ichigo looked away, not wanting to talk about this with Nel. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it at all, to anyone. Aizen was merciful, that was true; Ichigo somehow expected the other man to kill him, or use him and the alternative was almost worse—to be useless, just a toy to keep Grimmjow satisfied. So Grimmjow could bat him around and keep himself entertained. Ichigo felt self disgust creeping up his spine for not being strong enough to stop the arrancar from doing it—but as Aizen had said, if Ichigo could prove himself the greater strength between the two of them, it would get him out of here faster. Ichigo wasn't about to pass up a chance like that, no matter how degrading the process might be—

Nel gripped his face, her fingers on either side of Ichigo's cheeks to forcibly point his eyes towards hers. She smiled. "Stop being so serious! Even if you're stuck here, you could at least enjoy the company, y'know!"

"Um. Got it," Ichigo said abruptly.

Nel grinned impishly at him. "And stop acting like I'm some stranger! Especially after everything."

"You look a little different," he admitted. But she wasn't, he realized—still the same Nel who'd insulted him for anything and punched him in the balls when he didn't listen to her. He hoped she wouldn't continue the latter part.

"Doesn't mean that I _am_ different." She released his face gently before throwing herself at him in a full embrace. Her mask smacked soundly against his ear. "Oh, Ichigo! I'm so glad you're here. Even if it's just so that we don't have to be enemies!"

He envied her for making everything so simplistic. Nel had her old body back, the form that was truly her and as Aizen had accepted her back into the Esapada, he knew she had few regrets. Unlike himself, trapped in this place.

Nel was still clutching him tightly and Ichigo sighed, patting her gently on the shoulder. He felt jealous of her honesty in her affections; it was more than he could manage. He was truly glad to have her as a friend now but never said as much. As she held him, Ichigo could feel her breasts pressed to his chest, and heat began creeping up his face. He could deal with the tiny, obnoxious child Nel had been, but having her mature and attractive made him feel weird.

Then an annoyed voice spoke from behind them, "I know you like him but try to remember who he belongs to."

Ichigo slunk out of Nel's arms and twisted, glaring at Grimmjow who was standing down the corridor from them, leaning against a corner. "You're only fooling yourself if you really think you own me, asshole!"

"Heh," Grimmjow laughed, and shoved himself off the wall, walking towards them. "Go ahead and deny it, I'll enjoy watching the show. You're mine, Kurosaki." Grimmjow stopped a step away from Ichigo, lording the few extra inches of height he had over him. "Don't forget it's cause you gave yourself over willingly. That's the part I like most."

Ichigo could feel his anger rising. Nel's hand slid against his back in reassurance, "Don't let him get to you. Grimmjow's just never had fraccion before."

"Will you _go away_—" Grimmjow snarled, but Nel was undeterred.

"He just doesn't understand how to treat them." She said it brightly, as if to promise Ichigo that things wouldn't be as bad as he feared. "You'll have to forgive him for it. Anytime he makes you feel terrible, just know that it's because he thinks he _has_ to—"

"I really, really doubt that's the reason, Nel," Ichigo said, annoyed glare still full on the other man.

"Heh, you got the right idea, fucker," Grimmjow sneered. He glared towards Ichigo eagerly. "She don't get what's between you and me, does she?"

"And what is there?" Ichigo snapped. "I beat you once, Grimmjow. I'll do it again."

That brought a round of laughter from the other man, enough that Grimmjow threw his head back, his whole body shaking and Ichigo hated him. He hated the arrancar, but felt worse about himself—sure, he'd gotten into this of his own volition but Ichigo knew he made stupid choices all the time.

Grimmjow snickered. "You'll do it again? I'd like to see you try!"

Ichigo seethed; he could readily show the bastard just how wrong he was if he had a sword. But Grimmjow held Zangetsu and Ichigo wasn't about to ask for it—Grimmjow would see it as though Ichigo was begging him for something. The arrancar would hold the promise of his zanpakuto over him until Ichigo did whatever he wanted. Ichigo had no intention of letting that happen.

Beside him, Nel nudged his shoulder in a knowing manner. "You could take him; I know it. Don't let him tell you anything else, you're not a pet. He just _wants_ you to think that—it's your choice if you let him.

"Or am I wrong?" She said it to Grimmjow, directly, her smile beaming and the other arrancar seemed to sober.

"Che, think whatever you want. I don't _need_ this little shit. But I have him, that's what matters."

Nel whispered in a conspiratory undertone, "See how many excuses he needs to make—"

"Fuck, do you _want_ something?" Grimmjow snarled. "And you—" he turned to Ichigo, with one finger pointed towards his chest, "You gonna let some little fucking girly push you around? How pathetic."

"She's not pushing _me_ around, dickhead," Ichigo snapped.

Nel sighed, in a long suffering manner. "You can't blame Grimmjow for being excited. Come to think of it, it was probably best he never had fraccion until now; he'd just end up breaking them trying to show off—"

"That's it!" Grimmjow made a grab for her and Nel dodged, catching Grimmjow's jacket to pull him off-balance while she kicked his feet out from under him. The arrancar fell in a heap with a muffled sound, and Ichigo found it very difficult to keep from laughing.

"Oops." Nel shrugged innocently.

Grimmjow roared as he leapt back to his feat. "You goddamn bitch!"

He made a swing at Nel's face which she caught, holding him as though his strength were nothing. "Now, now," she said. "I'm _very_ impressed." She twisted Grimmjow's wrist sharply before releasing it.

"You're not even really fraccion, you'd need to be arrancar for that," Nel continued to Ichigo, as though the other Espada weren't there. "Grimmjow thinks fraccion are just something to play with, anyway."

"I only play with things that _bleed_—" Grimmjow growled in suppressed annoyance, as though Nel was giving away all his secrets. He probably didn't want Ichigo to know what his position was; better for Grimmjow to lord his superiority over him without question.

"And that just shows how stupid you are, doesn't it?" She seemed irritated at them both for not being able to get along, though Ichigo couldn't understand why she thought he should bother. Nel nodded towards Ichigo, as if to direct Grimmjow's attention. "Here's your chance to prove you're not beyond help: Ichigo's tired. You should take care of him."

"What?" Ichigo said—though he _was_ tried, still not completely healed from his injuries.

"What?" Grimmjow echoed his words. "So what am I supposed to do, change his diaper?"

"Fuck you—"

"Che, I'll show you fucked, whenever you're ready to leave your little _girlfriend_—"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Ichigo could feel his face heat uncomfortably. He didn't want to think of Nel that way.

"Then maybe you shouldn't let her order you around, see what I'm saying—"

"Grimmjow!" Nel's tone was scolding, as though she genuinely couldn't believe his behavior. "You can't take something home and then ignore it! He has his needs, stupid."

"Fine, fuck!" Grimmjow grabbed the collar of Ichigo's new white uniform and dragged him after as he started down the corridor. "This's more of a pain in the ass than it's worth!"

Ichigo stumbled before slapping the arrancar's hand away; Grimmjow shot him a glare, but continued walking and Ichigo followed on his own. He didn't like being tossed around like a toy for Aizen, Grimmjow, even _Nel_—

Ichigo didn't want to do anything that Aizen encouraged or wanted, but he knew he couldn't remain subservient to Grimmjow. He quietly resolved to whatever he could to fight the Espada or Aizen himself; anything that Ichigo did to get himself out of here would be on his own terms, whatever that entailed. He wasn't a game to be played, not by any of them.

"I don't have a goddamn room so we'll just use one that's not fucked up too bad," Grimmjow started.

"You don't have a room? What's _wrong_ with you?"

"Shut up, I sleep where I want. Gotta problem with that, bitch?"

Ichigo stopped abruptly. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Grimmjow gave a short, barking laugh. "Aw, what? Hit too close to home?"

"Bring it on, you piece of shit, I'll take you _right now_—"

"And _I'll_ end up disappointed when I don't even work up a sweat." Grimmjow said it with his pinky-finger jammed inside of his ear, clearly dismissive. "Are you ready to just accept things or d'you need me to prove it to ya?"

Ichigo snorted, angry and seething, but looked away. There really was no way for him to take Grimmjow in their respective conditions; the arrancar was healed and healthy and Ichigo still was so broken. He couldn't hope to defeat the other man now and he _needed_ to in order to escape. Grimmjow turned on his foot and began striding down the corridor again; Ichigo followed.

He nearly smacked into the other man's back when Grimmjow came to an abrupt halt. "This'll do," he muttered, before opening the door and shoving Ichigo through. As though Ichigo were unable to make it on his own.

The room was like all of the ones Ichigo had seen before now, when he'd been exploring with Nel—she had her own, though it was considerably bigger; fitting of an Espada. Ichigo's room was small, no space for much else than sleeping and bathing; only one doorway adjoined and he could tell it was to a washroom. His bed was larger than any Ichigo had seen, tucked into the corner leaving room for little else: a chair, a couch, and all of it white, white…Ichigo wished on some level to change it, if only to disrupt the constant blinding nothingness.

He realized Grimmjow remained behind him and glanced at the other man, prompting him for whatever led him to stay with Ichigo now. "Do you still want something?" he muttered, and Grimmjow's lip curled in annoyance.

"You could at least fucking say thanks," Grimmjow snapped. "I don't gotta give you your own room. Just think of it as a reflection of what a nice guy I am."

"Right," Ichigo snorted derisively. "That's _exactly_ what I had on my mind."

Then Grimmjow's tightened fist popped him in the chin and Ichigo staggered; the arrancar grabbed his flailing arm as he stumbled for balance and twisted Ichigo's body around, slamming him up against one of the blank walls.

Ichigo's arm was wrenched painfully behind him as Grimmjow pressed in close, his body covering the back of Ichigo's with his breath hot on the nape of his neck. "Y'know, you gotta real smartass mouth, brat."

Ichigo gasped, struggling away from Grimmjow's hold but the arrancar only wrenched his arm harder, crushing him against the wall. Ichigo could feel the tender, newly-healed injuries protesting against the treatment and couldn't stop a pained sound that spilled out; he stilled himself, not wanting to reopen any of his wounds. The smell of fresh blood would probably make Grimmjow even more excited than he already was.

"We're gonna have a good talk, you and me," Grimmjow said, his mouth close to Ichigo's ear. "Cause I don't think you really get what's going on. You seem to be forgetting who you belong to, and every time you do, I'm gonna do something like this to make you remember."

"Something like _what_—" Ichigo snapped, but then Grimmjow's teeth sank into his shoulder, right through his new uniform and to the skin underneath. Ichigo stiffened, yelping in pain and surprise. He writhed under Grimmjow's hold, but the arrancar's jaws only tightened. Ichigo didn't want a ruined shoulder on top of everything else, but this humiliation seemed much worse than any he'd endured so far.

He snarled, thrashing and wild. Ichigo would do anything to get away from the hot mouth and tongue pressed against his body, desperate to escape from Grimmjow's hands. Ichigo slammed his free elbow into the arrancar's chest; Grimmjow grunted but didn't dislodge his grip. If anything his teeth dug in deeper and Ichigo could feel the soft heat of his breath as it dampened his skin.

"What the fuck's _wrong_ with you—" Ichigo snarled, free hand braced against the wall and shoving away from it. He hoped to break away from Grimmjow by force, but the other man only made a sound, guttural and muffled, like a groan. Against Ichigo's own flesh, he realized. Nel was right—Grimmjow didn't know how to keep him as anything other than a subservient creature, and Grimmjow responded to any of Ichigo's challenges in kind.

Ichigo realized with clarity that it was his own doing that got him into this situation. Depending on anyone else wasn't his style; if he started this mess, he'd see it through to the end, however degrading and painful that turned out to be. Ichigo used his weight against the wall to spin sharply, twisting his pinned arm hard enough that it might come out of its socket, but he managed to get the wall at his back.

Ichigo glared blades at the other man, back braced against the barrier behind him and panting to catch his breath; it embarrassed Ichigo that he had to do even that. He bared his teeth angrily, "I fucking hate you so much—"

Grimmjow's hand snatched his jaw, holding it in a cruel grip. "Good," the arrancar sneered. Grimmjow's tongue darted across his lips, licking blood away, "Wouldn't have it any other way. But just remember, Kurosaki: I _beat_ you and I took you. Away from your friends and your world and the best part is, you fucking _let_ me do it. You _asked_ me to."

"Kill me if you want to, Grimmjow," Ichigo said, scowling. "Keeping me like this makes you pathetic."

"No more pathetic than you," Grimmjow murmured, his hands splayed against the wall on either side of Ichigo's face. He leaned in close and Ichigo went rigid, expecting his biting teeth again. The Espada inhaled deeply with his face beside Ichigo's, "I like that smell coming off you, shinigami. You smell scared, and you should be."

Ichigo's chest felt tight and his breath came in small pants; with Grimmjow this close, he _was_ scared. He didn't have a sword and knew he couldn't fight the other man off on strength alone. And here Grimmjow was, drinking it in like a drug—it made Ichigo sick, knowing that he was feeding the arrancar exactly what he desired.

Then abruptly, Grimmjow turned away, walking to the door and stopping before throwing Ichigo a look filled with smug satisfaction, "Try to hold onto that hate, shinigami. I'm looking forward to keeping you in line."

Grimmjow left, closing the door behind him, and the way Ichigo was shut into his room felt very final. Ichigo let himself sink to the floor, his back still against the wall where the arrancar had left him. He felt nauseated and exhausted; maybe he was still injured and could blame it all on that. It might make things easier than admitting how he could let that fucking prick Grimmjow walk all over him, as though he did indeed _own_ Ichigo.

It was the phrasing involved that bothered him the most: Ichigo wouldn't have minded being taken prisoner, but serving as just a toy or a pet was so much worse. Even when Inoue had given herself up and her reasons had been the same—to save others, to protect—at least she'd been valued by Aizen himself when she was captive. Or thought that she was—even if it was false, it would've helped, but Ichigo knew he was nothing. Just a sacrifice so others could escape; he knew he should take some comfort from that, but it was difficult when faced with the stark reality.

Sacrifices were supposed to be killed, that was their purpose. They weren't supposed to be dragged about and humiliated constantly, at least not in Ichigo's mind. A sacrifice, a death in the place of others, was noble—Ichigo wondered if he would've done the same if he'd known what was truly to come. What came after made Ichigo feel as though he was a rat trapped in a maze, being chased by a predator while Aizen himself regarded them both with amusement. He could outwit Grimmjow, but to what end? So he could serve the shinigami betrayer? Ichigo would rather destroy them both.

He noticed he was shaking, from exhaustion or his anger and wrapped his arms around himself. Ichigo slid one hand under his uniform and could feel twin indentations from where Grimmjow's teeth had breached his skin. There was blood on his fingertips when he pulled them away. He laughed, shortly and mirthlessly; at least it was a change of color.


	5. 5

Chapter whatever: the plot, it thickens.

Thanks again to Q for the beta 3

* * *

"Why have you brought such garbage to this table, Grimmjow."

It was more of a statement than a question, told in the dispassionate voice of Ulquiorra as he stared at Ichigo, as though he was a detestable insect to be squashed at the earliest convenience. They both sat at a long table with high chairs surrounding it. Ichigo knew this was some sort of meeting place, where Aizen would address his followers.

Ichigo scowled in return for Ulquiorra's empty eyed gaze.

"Che, I got my reasons. What's it matter to you?" Grimmjow snapped. He was seated beside Ichigo—or rather, Ichigo was seated beside him. Ichigo knew he didn't belong here, and felt decidedly out of place. Grimmjow had dragged him along as a trophy, or a spoil of war—most likely to show him off to the others. It made Ichigo feel sick.

Ulquiorra's eyes dropped, in exasperation. "I should expect no better. Already you assume my previous position and all you can do is boast of your power. How very small."

"You're only jealous because you let your little girly escape," Grimmjow sneered, showing his canines.

Ichigo was stuck on the way Ulquiorra had phrased things—previous position? Ichigo was sure he would've noticed such an increase in Grimmjow's power, had he been promoted. He wasn't about to ask if such a thing had happened, at any rate.

Grimmjow's narrow eyes were still locked in a glare on Ulquiorra. "You just don't like him sitting at this table, after he nearly kicked your ass."

Ulquiorra's helmeted spire tipped to the side, along with his face. "As opposed to being soundly defeated. And then protected; how does that feel, Grimmjow? I certainly hope to never imagine."

"Feels like I got him back good, on both counts," Grimmjow said, tossing Ichigo a toothy, wolfish smile. "Gonna learn the hard way why you don't leave an enemy alive."

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that what _you're_ doing, asshole?"

"You're not my enemy, now. You're my pet, brat." Grimmjow's arm shot out, his fingers digging into Ichigo's jaw as his blue eyes roamed over him possessively. Ichigo bat the hand away, jerking from Grimmjow's grasp, but the arrancar didn't seem to care, chuckling in amusement instead.

Nel was playing footsie with Ichigo from across the table, where she sat next to Ulquiorra. Her face was scrunched into a genuine smile while she watched the two of them, and the red stripe across her face crinkled along with her nose, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Er. I guess." Ichigo wasn't sure what she was specifically referring to. Most likely his physical wounds—Nel didn't seem to realize that being Grimmjow's captive was far worse. His injuries healed rapidly, thanks to Nel's saliva—Ichigo shivered involuntarily when he put it in those terms. Both Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had wounded him greatly in their fights; it was disturbing to be seated so closely to both of them, after that.

Nel didn't seem to care. "You just let me know if he's being mean to you," she said. "I know Grimmjow's positively incapable of thinking of other people's feelings, and it makes me worry since you're stuck with him."

Not sad enough to do something about it, Ichigo thought. But he knew Nel meant well, and he wasn't about to criticize the only person in this place who gave a damn about him.

"Eh, mind your own business why dontcha?" Grimmjow glared at Nel, but she paid him no attention.

Ulquiorra added his disdain, "It is disgusting as it is disrespectful for you to parade your creature before us, Grimmjow."

"If y'all got such a goddamn problem about it, you better make something of it!"

Ichigo felt increasingly embarrassed to be sitting beside someone so clearly unstable.

Grimmjow crossed his arms over his chest, as though the matter was decided. "I can do whatever the fuck I want, not like there ain't enough seats here that he can't stay."

Nel tapped Ichigo's foot twice, beneath the table. A hidden, affectionate code between them. "He's just showing off because he's so proud to have caught you. That's how much you mean to him!"

"Wow, I should feel so fortunate," Ichigo said, half-turning to glare at the blue-haired arrancar.

"Che, you should, punk." Grimmjow leered in Ichigo's face, "Fortunate you ain't _dead_, that is."

"Will you _pleeeease_ keep your voices down?" The muffled voice came from beside the head of the table; Ichigo realized it was a place of power, seated directly beside Aizen's chair. He knew this Espada was ranked first, even if they had never fought each other directly. "I haven't been able to get nearly enough sleep for days. My head hurts."

"Now, now, Stark-san," Ichimaru moved amongst them subtly, pouring cups of tea at each place at Aizen's table. "If it's botherin' ya that bad, I'm sure Sosuke'll have somethin' for it."

"Mmmn."

Grimmjow was completely undistracted, and his glare didn't waver from the owl-eyed Espada seated across from him. "You're letting that new rank a'yours go to your head, Ulquiorra. Think you're a match for me? Don't make me laugh."

"And you are as simple-minded as always," Ulquiorra responded, with as little interest as possible.

"Try not t'be starting a brawl at the table, y'all know we ain't got many rooms without holes in 'em left." Ichimaru said it like a patient school teacher, leaving his teapot in the center of the table, before retreating to one of the walls surrounding them. He leaned, elegant and invisible, clearly waiting. Ichigo wondered why the former captain didn't take a seat himself, but not a moment later Aizen entered and all of the Espada's attention focused towards him—as though Aizen were the sun they all were compelled to revolve around.

He smiled mildly. "Oh please, do not feel the need to rise."

Aizen took his place at the head of the table, and Ichigo suddenly felt very insignificant, seating amongst creatures of such power. Without Zangetsu, he wasn't even a match for the least of them. It brought a sense of loss and longing rising in his chest: he wished for his own self, the identity he'd left behind when he'd agreed to be a prisoner. He ached for the power he'd once held, the power Grimmjow had stolen from him.

"I'm so grateful that all of you could to join us," Aizen murmured, glancing across those assembled as if taking stock. His head tilted to the side, and one eyebrow rose questioningly, "Goodness, are there really so few of you left?"

There were only five Espada, if Ichigo counted right. He wasn't sure what Aizen was expecting, but the shinigami traitor sighed in a despairing manner, regarding his tea thoughtfully before he continued.

"I had certainly hoped fewer of you would fall against the shinigami. Let us all drink in remembrance of those who sacrificed themselves, in order that we are here now."

He raised his tea, and Ichigo did the same automatically, all of them did—Ichigo dropped his cup abruptly; he didn't want it to appear as though he belonged amongst these things.

"That being said, it is of great importance that we recognize those we still have among us," Aizen was saying. "As you may have already realized, due to the recent disruption of our ranks, several have been promoted and we take in again, Neliel Tu Oderschvank—the lost trecera Espada. She will assume her earlier position, given its vacancy."

Aizen nodded kindly towards Nel and she beamed back; Ichigo felt embarrassed to witness again her naked admiration. He felt like kicking her under the table, but knew it wouldn't go unnoticed.

"As for the remaining openings, I have seen fit to promote two others based on their dedication and devotion to our cause. Ulquiorra—due to both his outstanding service and inestimable powers is now our second, and Grimmjow has taken his formerly-held rank."

Ichigo felt his stomach sink to his knees; Ulquiorra had been more than a challenge for him when he'd had fought the quatra. They'd battled to a stand-still and Ichigo only managed to escape with his life. He didn't know if the promotion in rank meant an equally formidably increase in strength; Ichigo desperately hoped that wasn't the case.

Either way, he wasn't able to sense a difference in Ulquiorra's reiatsu, but knew that meant little, with his poor ability to sense such things. Ichigo couldn't recognize a change in Grimmjow's spiritual energy either, even now that he was named number four. Promoted two ranks, instantaneously. It seemed unfair to Ichigo; the arrancar didn't have to work to gain their new status or titles. Aizen simply bestowed it upon them, even if a change in number didn't mean new power; Ichigo knew it would simply come back to him in Grimmjow's taunting cackle, one more thing for the Espada to lord over him.

His thoughts had to rest as Aizen continued, "I trust all of you will respect this new appreciation of strength."

"Why don't I get a bump up?" It was Yammy that said it, from far the end of the table. Ichigo had almost forgotten he existed.

"Hmm," Aizen smiled. He took a sip of tea before responding to the question, "I see it only fitting to reward those willing to advance our goals when the situation demands it, Yammy. Initiative is a valuable trait. Perhaps I would reward you as well, if you would display it?"

"Hunh." The large Espada seemed annoyed, lounging his head on one fist, and not meeting Aizen's mild look. It appeared to Ichigo that Yammy found it more work than it was worth to prove himself.

Aizen was not deterred, "These things all being said, I welcome you to the new order that we will bring to the world. Our first advance—which cost our numbers so many, much to my regret—was only the initial assault upon Soul Society. If nothing else, I am encouraged to find you all eager as I am to resume the offensive."

Ichigo knew this was what they were assembled for: Aizen would lay out his new plans, and Ichigo would be waiting for them; they all assumed he was but a plaything for Grimmjow, but he was determined to do his damndest to undermine whatever Aizen had in store. He simply would have to wait and listen.

"Soul Society sees us beaten, but I look forward to proving them wrong. We are lesser in numbers, but I know you all realize what a meager measure of strength that is."

Grimmjow shifted beside Ichigo; he knew the Espada was unswayed by Aizen's words. Grimmjow wanted nothing more than a fight, and he would only follow Aizen so long as the shinigami promised him that.

Aizen continued, "I had hoped to draw Soul Society's attention to our realm, but I never anticipated how successfully we were able to divide their forces. It forced them into hasty action, and as a result, we now have a considerable advantage over them. It will be now that we show our true face.

"Soul Society has relegated Karakura to a shadow dimension, a place away from all other forces, where it is kept captive and contained. During our confrontation, we were able to disrupt its containment through the breaking of all four restraining reishi pillars. These barriers formed the field that limited the real Karakura from becoming involved in the war; with the kekkai destroyed, humans, for the first time, know the presence of forces beyond their imagining."

Ichigo shifted in his chair, suddenly attentive. To him, it seemed as though all the arrancar surrounding him already knew this—what exactly was Aizen hiding from him, from Soul Society?

"Even though the Gotei Thirteen were able to reinforce Karakura, its city became aware of what occurred. All one-hundred-thousand souls instantly knew of Soul Society." Aizen paused for a moment, consideringly, and Ichigo felt his stomach sink even further.

"Soul Society will do anything to prevent such an awakening from happening. They have subdued the city into a sleeping state, and will destroy it before its inhabitants are able to act again. Above all things, they are bound in limiting the spread of such knowledge, and will go to any lengths to preserve their secrecy.

"There lies their dilemma, and where we will exploit them: Yamamoto Genriusai will demolish the city and all within, before humans know of such matters."

"Are you saying that Soul Society will destroy Karakura?" Ichigo was unable to stop himself from demanding an answer.

In return, he found Grimmjow's hand pressed against the back of his skull a moment before it was slammed into the table.

"My apologies, Aizen-sama!" Grimmjow said, with Ichigo's forehead smashed harshly against the polished marble.

Ichigo struggled; his head ached from the impact, but he fought even more against Grimmjow's hold. He wouldn't bend against any of them, especially Grimmjow, and slapped the hands holding him away.

"No, no," Aizen was saying, "I realize your grasp on him is tenuous, at best—"

"Fuck you!" Ichigo snarled at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow's fingers were still knotted in his hair, and he snagged Ichigo's head, dragging it towards him. "Shut the _fuck up_."

"That's quite enough." Ichigo could see Aizen waving a dismissive hand at them. "Now, now. We can't have too much of that, unless you truly have such little control, Grimmjow—"

"I will see he realizes his _place_—"

"That is quite unnecessary."

Ichigo could feel the former-captain's reiatsu pushing down upon them both, like invisible hands on his shoulders, holding him against his chair. Ichigo's lips and teeth clenched, matching Grimmjow's grimacing expression, but he knew they were equally subservient.

"As you can see, we have a shinigami amongst us. One which Grimmjow has captured—as a testament to his strength, is that not so, Grimmjow?"

"Please, Aizen-sama, let me show him what it means to _belong_—"

"I require no such acts," Aizen said, still looking bemused. Ichigo wasn't about to let Grimmjow shove him around in such company; being the arrancar's pet was horrible enough, especially when he was displayed as such in public.

Aizen proceeded, as if caring very little for their on-going struggle. "The greatest fear of Soul Society is that the entire human world will know of their existence, and destroying the city is their most immediate resolution. When they do so, we will acquire the one-hundred-thousand souls needed for the ouken."

The statement was very final, and Ichigo's attention shifted from Grimmjow to the traitor shinigami before them. Aizen would use Soul Society to obtain his own ultimate goals.

Ichigo had only been peripherally aware of the ouken and its abilities when he, Chad, and Ishida invaded Hueco Mundo—they had simply wanted to rescue Inoue; Ichigo didn't give a shit about the politics involved. That was for Rukia and Renji to care about—Ichigo hadn't known the details, only that Aizen had to be stopped.

He finally realized why. He'd know the exiled shinigami saw himself as a god—why else would he create creatures from hollows to worship him? Ichigo didn't care for any of that when he'd first come here, unless it helped him save Inoue. Ichigo wanted rescuing her to be enough, but he realized it wasn't.

He simply couldn't believe Soul Society would see the easiest course of action in destroying Karakura. He jerked away from Grimmjow, who still held him in a light grip, and glared at Aizen. "_What_?"

That earned him another punch, but Ichigo took it, snapping back to snarl in Grimmjow's face.

"Our prisoner asks a very valuable question," Aizen said. He took a drink of his tea, and Ichigo regarded his own, cold and untouched in front of himself. "But it is quite obvious: we require the ouken, and Soul Society will deliver it to us. A slaughter of humans on our own would be too time-consuming; knowing this, we rely on others to perform the task for us. Seireitei will indeed fulfill our goals in this way; would you perhaps realize the answer as to why, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo ripped himself out of Grimmjow's hands, snarling at the arrancar before glaring at its master. Aizen meant to destroy Karakura, and Ichigo would align with Seireitei in an instant to prevent such a thing from happening. Aizen needed the one-hundred-thousand human souls to create an ouken, but he would put Soul Society in a position where it _had_ to eliminate Karakura, in order to preserve itself.

Ichigo spat into the tea before him, "You're forcing Soul Society's hand by revealing its presence to the human world. It's a secret that needs to be protected. And they will, you're just taking advantage."

"Exactly," Aizen murmured, as if greatly impressed by his aptitude. "For an entire city to learn of Soul Society, well…it is simply unheard of. Humans will become chaotic; their religions and their interpretation of _logic_ and _rationality_ will become disrupted, and this in turn will disrupt the balance between worlds. Yamamoto will condemn all within Karakura before he allows such a deeply-laid secret from becoming common knowledge.

"And this is where we will attain our goal: the ouken will be created by our powers the moment Karakura and all its people are condemned."

"That won't happen!" Ichigo snapped. He believed in Soul Society, not because he cared about it, but because their goals and motivations were the same as his—they wanted to protect and care for the humans in his world, in his Karakura. All Ichigo could think of was his father and sisters, trapped and awaiting death: they were most likely in the state of suspended animation that Aizen has spoken of. "Soul Society would never kill so many—"

"Tell me, Kurosaki," Aizen said, regarding him with his ambiguous smile. "Has Soul Society never executed an order you disagreed with? Something that seemed so irrational, but would preserve their own selfish interests?"

Ichigo thought of Rukia—stuck in a tower and awaiting her death for carrying out her orders to the best of her ability. And Inoue, the same thing—Ichigo couldn't believe the Comander-General's orders to abandon them both. In his heart, Ichigo knew the old shinigami leader had little sympathy, only duty. He would destroy Karakura, if it were necessary.

"It may take Seireitei weeks or months to act upon such things, but I assure you, they will," Aizen said. "Its secrecy and subversion will be its undoing. They will act as readily as when they eliminated the Quincy, years ago.

"Yamamoto Genriusai is unable to accept anything but the preservation of the king's goals. And in his blind subservience, we will acquire the king's key—it will lead us to destroy Soul Society, an archaic infrastructure the new world has little need of." Aizen said it with an air of finality, as if rousing those around him, but Ichigo saw little inspiration amongst the assembled arrancar—aside from where it concerned Ulquiorra or Nel. It drew a deep sense of disgust within him, that Nel would be so intoxicated by Aizen's words. Even the first Espada was unmoved; he remained motionless, with one hand perched against a hand propped on top of the table, bored and tired.

Aizen rose, as if this were all he had to say. "Our method remains unchanged. We, reduced and decimated by those we will overcome, need only to persevere.

"My challenge to you now is to rebuild our forces: we require many to reforge our ranks. Through the power of the hougyoku, I will make them whole."

He turned, with a swooping show of his robes, away from the table and its assembled arrancar. Ichigo watched the betrayer leave, feeling deeply disturbed—either by Aizen's words and promises, or by what he feared was occurring in the real world. Soul Society simply _couldn't_ condemn Karakura; it would go against everything Ichigo had been led to believe in.

Aizen was the trickster that deceived them all; he'd done it once in Soul Society, and now he worked his charms from Hueco Mundo. Ichigo knew the other man was lying—he had to be. But it lingered with him, the fear and doubt; Ichigo remembered the way Seireitei and the newly-formed central 46 had so easily given Inoue up for lost. As if she meant nothing. As if he and his friends were useless; they sent reinforcements eventually but that was only at Urahara's urgings, if what Ichigo had learned from Kenpachi could be believed.

He had to escape, Ichigo realized. He had to get back, if for nothing else than to warn Soul Soceity of the trap they were stepping into. They couldn't obliterate Karakura, and simply hand over the souls Aizen required—keeping them in a contained sleep was better than giving a traitor his due.

Ichigo followed after Grimmjow as the new quatra Espada swaggered off, feeling a new sense of purpose. The new title of Grimmjow's would take a long time to get accustomed to, but despite everything, Ichigo knew in his heart a strange hope; he had a _reason _for being here_,_ something he could use to undermine Aizen with from the inside.

Ichigo could do some good even as a prisoner. He _had_ to. There was nothing else to live for if Karakura was destroyed.

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Please leave a review or any kind of feedback, I appreciate it. And thank-you for reading!


	6. 6

Needs moar blunt-force trauma :9

Thank-you to Q for the beta and suggestions, and thanks to all those reading.

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Ichigo sat alone, in what could be called the 'outside'—he'd realized from Nel that it was an invention of Aizen's which made the giant dome covering the many miles encompassed by Las Noches appear as though it was the blue open sky of the real world. Ichigo found it insulting, knowing their intentions on Karakura and the mortal realm.

Nel had been gone for almost a week, called off for some mission, and Ichigo found himself missing her. No one else would speak with him except Grimmjow, the one person Ichigo had no interest in talking to.

He knew he was essentially on his own, and had every intention of undermining Aizen whenever the opportunity presented itself, but he couldn't stop thinking about what might be happening in the real world. It seemed like ages since he'd come to Hueco Mundo to rescue Inoue, and at least in that goal he had been successful.

What followed, after Grimmjow caught him in his escape, Ichigo couldn't remember entirely; it came back to him in bits and pieces like the memories of a fever-dream. The Espada had cornered him and his friends, and Ichigo gave himself up to save the others; he couldn't let them remain behind, whatever the cost. Protecting them was the only purpose he had left.

And he knew in his piecemeal memories that Grimmjow had taken his offer: _'Leave the others alone,'_ Ichigo had said, so full of confidence he didn't feel at the time. Grimmjow wouldn't have accepted him otherwise. _'You want me, then _take_ me.'_

Maybe Grimmjow had said something in return, an acceptance: affirming that Ichigo was all he truly cared about. Ichigo knew he didn't go easily even though he'd handed himself over; he'd seen the new scars on his chest and abdomen and had little recollection of how they'd gotten there. They stood out in angry, red lines. One—on his belly, near his center—stuck out the most; a mottled, pocked mark that Ichigo imagined was the remnants of Grimmjow's fist after the arrancar stabbed it into him.

They all ached with a tender weakness, the indications that whatever lay beneath was still unhealed. Nel could speed his recovery, but Ichigo remained wounded. He didn't care. If he hadn't been injured, his friends would not have escaped, and then his sacrifice would've meant nothing.

He was dragged out of his deep thoughts by another presence, and Ichigo could tell immediately who it was—Grimmjow. His opponent would never shield his power, and his reiatsu bled out like an open wound. Ichigo twisted from where he sat to glare at the other man as he approached; Grimmjow had his hands stuck in his pockets in an arrogant, relaxed posture. He looked anticipatory, as though Ichigo were a snack he'd come to enjoy.

"All on your lonesome, eh?" Grimmjow stopped several steps away from where Ichigo rested. "That ain't smart. Nel's getting sloppy."

"I don't need Nel to protect me, you dick." Ichigo scowled, before jumping down from his seat. "What d'you want?"

Maybe it was a question he didn't particularly care to hear the answer to, but Ichigo asked it just the same. He wouldn't sway before Grimmjow. Ichigo would match and fight him as long as they could both stand.

Grimmjow was laughing, a slow chuckle that rocked his shoulders. "You don't _think_ you need her but, boy, you do. You need all the help you can get."

"Is that right?"

"Fuck yeah's right. Think about it, shinigami—you only barely scraped past me the first time, and then got your ass handed to ya. I enjoyed picking up the pieces; Ulquiorra'd never know a good thing if it turned tits-up on him."

Grimmjow stalked towards him like a predator, but Ichigo held his back straight, unmoving. The other man continued to wind a tight circle around him. "I know a gift when I'm given one. I know when a victory is more than just a proving of power." He stopped behind Ichigo, mouth beside his ear, "I could pound your skinny little ass into the sand, over and over, but nothing like that'd come close to having you just _beg_ me to take you. Know why that is, huh?"

"Why?" Ichigo snapped, his head jerking in the direction of the arrancar's voice.

"Cause only a _weak_ _thing_ gives itself up readily. And that's what you are." Grimmjow stepped so he was facing Ichigo. "You always thought you were equal to me, but y'ain't. I knew that, but it took you so much longer to realize it. You still think you're as strong's me, and I'm gonna take my time showing you you're not."

"What're you talking about, you arrogant prick?" Ichigo scowled at the other man, with mere inches between them. He wouldn't flinch; Grimmjow would only lord it over him if he did.

His response drew a wide smile across Grimmjow's face, as if he expected nothing less. Ichigo's glare increased but only for a moment—up until Grimmjow's fist snapped towards him like a gunshot.

It was a move Ichigo had predicted, from the instant the arrancar showed up; Grimmjow had neither finesse nor subtlety, and Ichigo counted on that. He dodged to the side in a flash and could hear the air slice as Grimmjow's hand knifed past his ear.

Ichigo used his weight to swing around, hand in a tight ball as he threw it towards Grimmjow's bare belly—just before Grimmjow's other fist slammed the wind out of him. Grimmjow had been waiting with a second punch that caught Ichigo in his chest, throwing him back with its impact.

Ichigo staggered, his wounds protesting and fresh bile rising to burn against the roof of his mouth. He gagged, hunching over on himself.

Grimmjow was giggling excitedly; clearly glad to have caught Ichigo unawares. "How d'you ever expect to be better'n me when you walk right into my hands?"

"I wouldn't be too pleased," Ichigo coughed and spat; his mouth tasted like copper. "You feel good beating me like this, when I'm still injured?"

"Yeah," Grimmjow answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

It was a simple response, reinforcing to Ichigo the way the arrancar had always acted towards him: Grimmjow saw this fight as a game.

It disgusted Ichigo, and he snarled, "I guess I thought you had more pride than that."

Grimmjow snapped in front of him, moving faster than Ichigo's eyes could follow; all he saw before the other man hit him was a flash of fangs before his body snapped back, aching and painful.

Ichigo tumbled like a ragdoll across the sands until he hit something—a building or a ruin; it was at an odd angle that sent him flying in a chaotic spin. Ichigo cursed his weakness as he rolled wildly; he was wounded, but he'd easily fallen into Grimmjow's hands.

Ichigo skidded to a stop, finally finding his legs and he left long track marks in the sand. He gasped, panting, and blood trickled from his hairline to his chin. Grimmjow had knocked him a good one on his temple, and it'd split Ichigo's scalp; he was bleeding and didn't have time to stop it from pouring into his eye.

Ichigo didn't care. He wouldn't run like the animal—the pet, the crawling creature—that Grimmjow thought he was. He'd wait for the bastard, taking everything the arrancar wanted to dish out if that was what it took. Ichigo's hands were tight at his sides, fingers digging into their palms until it was painful.

Grimmjow appeared in a moment, perfect and untouched, with the same wide smile splitting his face. "Aw, look at you, making a stand," he simpered. "Think this'll impress? You should be running, shinigami."

Ichigo's breath was labored and he wondered if he was being stupid, still confronting the other man. But what else was there? Ichigo refused to bow to him, even if it was foolish to resist.

"I'm not afraid of you!" he snapped, teeth clenching until they hurt.

"You take all the fun outta everything."

Before Ichigo could snap off a retort, Grimmjow was upon him, his arms swinging wildly. Ichigo ducked just as the other man's feet swept beneath him, and he fell heavily. Ichigo made a snarling, heated sound as Grimmjow lunged upon him and kicked his knees up to meet the arrancar's body. Grimmjow grunted and their bodies entwined in a snaring mass.

Ichigo used his head to butt the fucker soundly in the face, and they were both stunned. They rolled together across the uneven sand until Ichigo ended up on top, shaking the fuzz from his head and punching the Espada across the face. Grimmjow snatched his arm and twisted, making Ichigo yelp as he was thrown off.

Ichigo's wounded belly and chest ached from the weight as Grimmjow leapt upon him, smirking face staring into his. "I like that you fight," Grimmjow smiled, his eyes wild and anticipatory. The arrancar's face darted down, tongue touching against Ichigo's skin to lick the blood away. Ichigo shuddered, disgusted.

"This is good, ain't it?" Grimmjow's voice murmured. "_Good_, yeah. So good I almost don't want you to break, shinigami. I'd miss _this_ too much."

"Quit dreaming, fuckhead!" Ichigo's voice sounded ragged. He shoved one knee into the arrancar's stomach, and Grimmjow made a pained whine, his hold slackening. Ichigo realized he'd hit the Espada's hole—a weakness maybe, but Ichigo didn't care; it was enough for him to writhe away.

He staggered to his feet, running and not looking back as he zig-zagged across the grounds of Las Noches. He bounded off buildings for greater momentum and felt them crack under his feet. Ichigo longed instantly for his sword; he knew he'd be a better opponent with Zangetsu, but he wouldn't beg Grimmjow for it when the arrancar would clearly see such a request as a weakness. Ichigo was nothing without his sword, and fighting with fists against Grimmjow's greater strength would always place him at a disadvantage.

He dodged wildly—this area of Las Noches was a network of adjoined buildings connected by sky-bridges between white, square structures. Ichigo didn't care, so long as they gave him cover, and he dashed erratically, desperately hoping to throw Grimmjow off his trail.

Ichigo used shunpo to quicken his steps; he wasn't one to shy from a fight—he'd shown as much already—but knew enough to recognize when he should. His muscles ached and he felt a sudden, sharp jerk in his stomach—something was wrong. He dashed behind a crumbled ruin and hunkered down, gasping for breath as he nursed a tender stitch in his side. Maybe he'd pulled something free internally, or the scuffle from Grimmjow had done so—either way, his breaths took on a painful edge.

Ichigo heard cackling behind him, still at a distance but with the abrasive edge, like the whine of a hyena. "You're making me feel bad for ya, shinigami!"

How did it come to this, Ichigo wondered: hiding scared like a trapped rabbit, with his heart pounding away inside his chest. In any other situation he would've felt ashamed.

"Think you can run but I can smell you from here, brat. You stink of fear."

Ichigo hated it; he wasn't _afraid_ of the other man, but it would be deadly not to appreciate Grimmjow's power.

Ichigo stilled his breath until he made no sound. He didn't make a move and calmed his mind; Grimmjow would be attracted to his reiatsu unless he controlled it. Ichigo waited for long moments—not breathing, not thinking. He could hear nothing from the arrancar, and for a fleeting, hopeful moment he imagined he'd escaped.

"Gotcha," Grimmjow said, and his mouth was right beside Ichigo's ear.

Ichigo startled, flinging himself away and scrabbling to his feet, but Grimmjow was faster. Like a true predator, he leapt upon Ichigo, bearing him to the ground with his own body.

Ichigo was left with his face pressed into the dirt; Grimmjow's breath was hot against the back of his neck. Cornered like prey; it was terrifying and embarrassing.

"To think you ever equaled me." Grimmjow's smirk was in his voice. "That's a joke. That's all you are, shinigami."

"Give me my sword, Grimmjow," Ichigo gasped, writhing beneath the other man. "Or are you afraid of what I'd do with it?"

That brought a bawdy, howling laugh from the Espada. "You think that'd get you far? You do gotta big head, I'll give you that. All the more reason for me to knock you back to where you belong."

Ichigo wouldn't go easily, and threw his head back; it cracked soundly against the other man's jaw. He snaked away, kicking sand into Grimmjow's eyes before crawling on hands and feet like a crab, far enough so that Grimmjow's snaring hands could no longer catch him.

"Why don't you give it to me?" he demanded, regaining his feet. "Or is this the only fight you think you'll win at?"

Grimmjow was wiping at a thin trail of blood; Ichigo had split his lip. The arrancar still seemed relaxed, playful; as though Ichigo were the most minor of threats. "Heh, I like this game. And you'd be just the same with a zanpakuto; why bust you up even worse with slices when I can it with my hands?"

Grimmjow charged at him using sonido, and the static burst was all the warning Ichigo had. Ichigo threw a hard arm up to protect himself, and Grimmjow slammed into it, knocking them both back a step but Ichigo braced himself solidly. The arrancar sneered into his face.

"Run, you little shit. Make this _fun_ for me."

"Fuck you," he snarled, shoving the other man off.

"Hah," Grimmjow laughed and snatched the front of Ichigo's jacket. "Afraid, huh? Of me, or of the pain? I'll give you both."

"Then _do it_." Ichigo grabbed the wrist that held him, squeezing painfully, but Grimmjow took little notice.

Instead, the Espada lifted him off his feet by the cloth of his coat. "You think I'll stop if you don't fight back, eh? Like I care you ain't worried? You're ruining what this is about, shinigami."

Ichigo felt his breath snatched away as the collar of his shirt dug into his throat, choking him. His feet kicked pitifully and instinctively, but then the arrancar's arm jerked back and Ichigo was flying in the open air; Grimmjow had thrown him and now Ichigo was spinning wildly. He slammed into the sand once, unable to stop the rebound as he crashed against it a second time.

With the momentum Grimmjow had given him, Ichigo rolled, landing on his feet and he set off running again, desperate to avoid Grimmjow's clutching hands. It was disturbing how possessive the other man seemed. He was like a cat toying with a crippled bird, batting it about and letting it think it'd escaped only to pounce upon it again. A cat in that instance had no use for a dead bird—Grimmjow wanted Ichigo to run for his own amusement, for as long as he could.

Ichigo went for miles before he dashed behind a tall building, hunched and breathless. He huddled behind the frame of one of the red pillars that dotted the open dome; he knew he could race Grimmjow for ages around and around Las Noches and the Espada would never grow tired. Ichigo would, he already was; his breath tore in his lungs and brought a sharp stitch at the pain already in his side.

"You're still fast, I like that." He'd barely recovered before he heard Grimmjow approaching, "But that ain't good enough, is it?"

Fuck, how could the other man be so quick? It wasn't _fair_. Ichigo cursed, biting his bottom lip as the building shuddered. There was a crack and the entire structure jerked, its mortar buckling as Grimmjow broke it down with his fists. Ichigo knew this would never end until all the buildings in Las Noches were demolished.

Bricks and boulders were crashing down beside him as he escaped but Ichigo stopped himself from going far; he watched as the pillar crumbled as easily as those he and Grimmjow had torn down during their decisive fight. When it fell and its red-tinged dust cleared, Grimmjow was walking towards him, slowly; Ichigo realized he was stalking him.

Ichigo wouldn't move this time. He'd learned from earlier that if he did, Grimmjow would chase him; he'd never stop. But Ichigo _could_ stop, right now—even if it killed him. It would mean dying with his pride rather than later, crawling on hands and feet. Ichigo set his shoulders and waited, right up until Grimmjow was only meters away from him. They'd been this close before, only moments ago, but even now Ichigo's breath felt tight in his chest. He hated himself because he could only react to what the other man did.

The arrancar's smirk never left his face as Grimmjow eyed him excitedly. "What're you trying to pull, shinigami? This ain't any fun. Think I won't kill you? You're wrong."

"This can't be satisfying, Grimmjow. This isn't even a fight," Ichigo said. "If you're enjoying this you disgust me."

"Think being brave'll impress me?" Grimmjow simpered. "That look in your eyes shows me you still don't know you're beaten. I'll make you realize it, however long this takes."

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Oh but you are, you _reek_ of fear," Grimmjow's smile was cocky and he tipped his head to the side. "Maybe not cause'a losing a fight but you know what I'll do to you after. You're right to be worried."

He rushed in an instant, just as before—Grimmjow hoped Ichigo would run, spooking him into a chase the other man could follow. Ichigo held his body rigid and shut his eyes tightly, painfully. He saw white nose behind his eyelids as he anticipated the blow; at least if Grimmjow killed him now he wouldn't die ashamed.

He waited for a long moment, his body tense but then—"Grimmjow."

Ichigo's eyes snapped open and his heart seemed to stop and re-start in quick succession. He gasped; Grimmjow's fist was held only centimeters from his face.

"Grimmjow. What is the meaning of this."

_Did Ulquiorra ever actually _ask_ a question?_ It was the most logical thought Ichigo's mind could come up with. The other Espada was standing beside them both, one hand stopping Grimmjow's arm with power greater than either of them could imagine.

Grimmjow tore away. "What the fuck d'you want?"

"How many buildings have you destroyed, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra's voice was as empty as the promise of an open tomb. "How many buildings do you believe still remain?"

"What the fuck's it matter to me?" Grimmjow sneered, incensed.

Ichigo could feel his heart skipping in his chest; he seemed very much forgotten by both Espada.

"Aizen has words for you. Follow me." It was not a request and Ulquiorra turned on one pointed heel. "Now."

"Che." Grimmjow snorted shortly but followed, not even sparing a backwards glance for Ichigo. But he called after, "This ain't finished, Kurosaki. Count yourself lucky."

Ichigo wanted to spit back a retort but his words and breath died in his mouth; he felt exhausted to his bones but still wanted to shout after Grimmjow for leaving the fight unfinished.

_And why provoke him further?_ Ichigo didn't know but he wasn't so intimidated not to throw everything back in the arrancar's face.

Ichigo turned and felt dizzy. His feet were clumsy under him after all the time they'd spent flying through the sands without gravity. He stumbled before sinking heavily on a boulder loosened by one of Grimmjow's attacks.

Why did he care that Grimmjow walked away from a fight, even under duress? He took strength from recognizing when his opponent only toyed and used him—he was weak but not stupid.

His inner confidence was tinged with a lingering despair: he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, fending off Grimmjow at every opportunity. Ichigo couldn't win on power alone unless he got his sword back. He would have to rely on patience and cunning—neither were his preferred methods, particularly where they concerned Grimmjow.

His stomach sank, though that could be blamed on the sharp pains from his over-worked injuries. Ichigo looked around him; he had no idea where he was. Still in a prison, but one that was enormous. He could return to his room, but that would only make his cage a cell—though an appealing one: Ichigo's muscles ached down to the bones, and he had a sharp cramp in his side from running.

Ichigo rested for what seemed like ages until he made his way slowly to a building that was still standing. He didn't know what would be inside but it was a step towards his own room and a hot bath.

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Thank you for reading! I appreciate any comments or criticisms you'd like to give.


	7. 7

Hello again! Here is a new chapter, kinda short this time, I apologize.

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Grimmjow stood with his hand shoved deep into the pockets of his hakama; his shoulders were slouched and he glared at the floor. He didn't give much of a shit for Aizen-_sama_ until it concerned him and now it did. And that pissed him off. What did Aizen care for what he did with that little fuck, Kurosaki?

Grimmjow dared a quickly-snatched glare at the shinigami presiding over him. Aizen sat upon his throne—where else, Grimmjow wondered—and was regarding him with the perennial mild, paternal stare. The shinigami's hand was braced against his cheek and he seemed extremely disappointed. Grimmjow knew in this situation to keep his damn mouth shut: Aizen would wait for anything that seemed guilty but Grimmjow had nothing to be ashamed of.

"Grimmjow."

Fuck, maybe he'd given away something just by stealing a glance.

"Grimmjow. Surely you know why you're here?"

It was never a question that Grimmjow was about to answer. Sure, he knew why he was there but it seemed naïve of the shinigami to ask for Grimmjow's explanation. Offering anything up was just as good as saying he was in the wrong, and Grimmjow most assuredly knew he was not.

The shinigami lord made a sigh, long-suffering; as though he knew the entirety of Grimmjow's thought process, and found it very silly.

"I expected better of you, one of my last Espada. And even after I gave you such a well-deserved promotion," Aizen said. "Is it too much to ask that you follow orders?"

Grimmjow did not respond.

Aizen sounded irritable when he spoke. "Very well, must I explain it all to you?"

"I dunno," Grimmjow muttered, not raising his gaze. Despite whatever Aizen was trying to trick him into admitting, Kurosaki had been asking for it, with his smart fucking mouth. Hadn't been Grimmjow's fault that showing the shinigami brat the error of his ways took out two of the largest buildings remaining in Las Noches.

Grimmjow hadn't known the one of them contained Aizen's tea room. In retrospect, he wasn't particularly sad they'd destroyed that.

"I was most generous in letting you keep your pet, if only so that you could amuse yourself," Aizen said, his voice quiet but deadly. "I did not consider that your amusements would be so…violent."

"I'm sorry."

Grimmjow wasn't sorry.

"You realize why I am upset." Aizen said it as though it was very obvious. He only had so many things to be concerned with these days, so of course Grimmjow got the brunt of his attention. "We have so few structures left, and I hope you realize the effort and time required to rebuild. Yammy can only do so much. And unless new hollows are found which may be converted into arrancar, you must know we have few forces to devote to this effort."

Grimmjow realized it was a threat: stop blowing shit up, and if he didn't restrain himself, Grimmjow might easily find himself reforming the buildings he'd crushed.

"I can find more," he muttered, an abstract thought to keep Aizen appeased. Grimmjow had little interest in seeking out new hollows that were of arrancar potential; that was a job for someone who gave a crap about Aizen's ultimate goals. Neliel or Ulquiorra—both of them had been muttering quietly about how the last five ranks of the Espada needed to be filled. Nel had even taken off on her own to find potential Espada. Grimmjow knew such a task was just a seek-and-destroy mission; he had little interest. He had acquired all he'd ever wanted in Kurosaki.

"Oh? Well, what an excellent proposition."

Grimmjow cursed that the bastard had latched onto such a throw-away offering.

"I am terribly interested in obtaining new hollows—ones of power, you understand. Our lower ranks remain, but it distresses me that you Espada are so scarce."

"Mm." Grimmjow listened to him talk and talk; it was all the shinigami were good for. Even Kurosaki, who wanted to _talk_ all the damn time instead of _fight_—

"Neliel has already sent word, by one of her fraccion, that they are successful in this matter. It would be quite reassuring if you would emulate her behaviors."

Grimmjow scuffed his foot indecisively. Sure, it'd keep Aizen off his back. But Grimmjow wasn't the type to go searching for praise—he wasn't Nel, in other words. "I gotta keep Kurosaki in line. He's more trouble than I thought he'd be. Keeps me busier than I'd like."

"More trouble than you're capable of, is that what you're saying?"

"No—"

"It certainly sounds like that's the case. If he is, I assure you, passing him off to Ulquiorra or Neliel—even Stark, I assume, wouldn't mind having him—it would be no trouble. I would hate to keep you distracted."

Grimmjow hated that he'd said as much as he had. Kurosaki wasn't trouble, at least not the kind Grimmjow disliked. He was fast. He was _fire_, still strong enough to put up a good fight. Aizen had handed the little bastard off to him without a second thought—more his loss, in Grimmjow's eyes. The shinigami-brat was slippery like an eel; every time Grimmjow though he had the fuck beat Kurosaki surprised him.

Grimmjow liked it that way. He _liked_ having a talented adversary.

That was why Grimmjow was interested. Grimmjow _loved_ his resourcefulness—he wanted to see what the prick'd do next; an eager and resilient opponent was better than anything else in the world, and Ichigo was the best.

Grimmjow imagined how things would've went had they not been interrupted; he'd have Kurosaki beat and on his knees—Grimmjow would tilt that proud head back baring the shinigami's throat until Grimmjow's mouth closed over the pulse beating strongly there, biting down. Nothing more than a warning, but it would be enough; it'd make a mark on Ichigo that he'd be parading around with for days. That would make the brat think twice—

Aizen's leg shifted off the knee it'd been resting upon, "Perhaps Kaname was right about you, Grimmjow. You are simply too wild."

"He died, didn't he?" It was worth something. People didn't die because they were wrong, and Tousen sure as fuck was dead. Though he'd died protected Aizen during their retreat—it was still something. If Tousen had been worth a damn he would've made it out alive.

"Hah," Aizen chuckled at his response. "It is as you say. But that does not dismiss his observations. He saw something in you, Grimmjow, something uncontrollable. Do not force me break that wildness. You will not enjoy it."

Grimmjow knew he wouldn't. He'd experience Aizen's punishments before when the shinigami overlord had truly been angry at him. Grimmjow knew now that this reprimand was but a warning.

"I trusted that Kurosaki would amuse you and keep your bloodlust sated; I did not anticipate you would require so much to keep him subdued. Or is he truly so difficult to control?"

It was a rhetorical question, one Grimmjow knew better than to answer. On one hand, he'd come up short—Kurosaki would seem too much for him. On the other, Aizen would know Grimmjow wasn't trying with his all to break the little bastard.

But where was the _fun_ in that? If he crushed Kurosaki completely he wouldn't have anything to fight against, would he?

Grimmjow shrugged. He wouldn't play Aizen's games nor fall into his verbal traps. He'd learned over time that keeping his damn mouth shut served him better than anything else.

"Hmm. You're so quiet. It's quite distressing."

Grimmjow shifted on his feet, uncomfortable under Aizen's immovable gaze. "He's mine. That's all—I do what I want with the things that're mine."

Aizen seemed pleased by his response; as though any was enough. "Well. I'm glad you enjoy him. I will not removed him from your possession, for now, but know that if you persist in your destructive habits I may be forced to do so."

Grimmjow nodded his head, once; he could realize a warning and a gift when they were given. Aizen didn't want him to fuck up the place, big deal—just meant he had to stop letting Kurosaki get as far away from him as he did when they had a nice chase going. He'd miss that, but he wanted the brat with him even more.

"That is all, Grimmjow. Though it does please me greatly that you're so captivated—why is that, if I might ask?"

Grimmjow felt quite taken aback—it was unlike Aizen to give a shit about them; about him in particular. The shinigami liked to play lord and master, hovering over them all while knowing them very little personally. The perfect position for a god, and Grimmjow knew that was what the other man considered himself.

Maybe it was because he had so few subjects remaining that he'd begun to care now. Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, letting them hunch heavily. "He's just _good_. He can't help it."

"And you can do nothing but counter that." Aizen said it as though it were obvious.

"I want him," Grimmjow said, for the first time meeting Aizen's eyes.

"I can see. But do you even know why?"

"It don't matter. Just that he _fights back_."

It made Aizen laugh, a soft chuckle that Grimmjow could see shaking the other man's shoulders. "Exactly what you cannot resist. You are as complex as you are simplistic—a dichotomy Kaname would never have been able to acknowledge."

Aizen's hand rested upon his fist again and somehow, subconsciously, Grimmjow could tell their conversation was over. He bowed low on one knee and Aizen gave a dismissive murmur. Grimmjow left with his hands tight at his sides, resenting the shinigami and his superiority; Grimmjow wondered how he'd ever gotten to the point that he bowed to the man in the first place.

But as soon as he left the audience chamber with Aizen far behind, it began to matter less and less—what did Grimmjow _care_ if he was being fucked around with by a higher being he could never hope to challenge? He had what he wanted: Kurosaki captive with Grimmjow as his master. He'd teach the little brat, inch by inch if that was what it came to.

His stomach shivered and his jaw clenched in anticipation and excitement. He wanted Kurosaki again: running before him and afraid. He could find the little brat now, in his room no doubt—huddled and alone. Or he could wait until the shinigami showed his face. Grimmjow had always been a good predator, and in patience, waiting for his prey, he found it made him whole.

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Okay! So, several reviewers of the last chapter have commented on the relative lack of romantic action between Grimmjow and Ichigo thus far. Please don't worry! I fully plan on getting them together, but I find that my favorite part in any romantic relationship, and especially in fic, is the "getting together" tension and interaction. So I'm kinda drawing it out in this fic. I apologize if you find it too drawn out, or are becoming disinterested because there's not real overt relationship. It'll happen! I swear :D

Also, please know that I take your reviews/comments/criticisms seriously, and I am paying attention. Never feel afraid to question or criticize what's going on in this fic! I'm really very open to suggestion and am glad to hear your thoughts, always.


	8. 8

Thanks, as always, to Q for pre-reading everything. And thanks to you, for reading!

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Ichigo wasn't bothered by the Espada for almost three days following their destructive rampage through Las Noches. He wasn't sure if Grimmjow was being punished, or if Aizen's warnings were enough to subdue him—Ichigo doubted they would be. But the Espada didn't confront him, and Ichigo enjoyed the relative calm that followed; his wounds were able to heal until he only noticed them when he exerted himself.

He had Nel to thank for that. She'd returned after scouring the desert for hollows, and upon seeing his condition, immediately gave him some sort of medicinal reishi that speeded his recovery. Ichigo would have been cautious to take such a treatment from anyone else, but Nel was as close as he had to a friend in this place. He couldn't help trusting her.

Ichigo spent his days walking through Las Noches, or what remained of it. He'd never grown familiar with the endless hallways during their invasion; everything looked the same. He had time to acquaint himself with it now, and knew that learning its layout would prove useful in the long run. Ichigo couldn't stop thinking of ways to escape from this place; he knew it was vital that he did. He couldn't forget his friends in the real world, in Soul Society or Karakura; he knew they were all falling quickly into a deep trap laid by Aizen.

Ichigo still refused to believe Yamamoto would order the destruction of Karakura, but the old man had surprised him before, and apparently Seireitei valued their secrecy more highly than he'd realized. Ichigo knew that of all people, Urahara would've been the first he would've consulted; the former-shinigami was exiled for a reason, and still hadn't explained why.

Even if Karakura existed forever in a shadow dimension and its inhabitants never awoke, Ichigo would be satisfied with that. They could defeat Aizen on their own time, and then deal with the city. Ichigo prayed Soul Society wouldn't rush into things quickly, and knowing that their governing Central 46 was still being reformed assured him that he at least had some time before anything decisive happened.

Ichigo was sitting on the sill to one of the windows which opened onto the desert. There was a window in his own room, but it faced the false skyline that Aizen had created—not much comfort there. It worried Ichigo how inviting the open expanse of dessert looked: he could jump down from the window he was perched on and fall the several stories to the ground (Ichigo knew how to fall and roll and recover, and get back up on his feet again and _go_), but he never did. It was alluring, not knowing what was out there. Grimmjow had told him it was impossible to escape, and Ichigo knew the desert was crawling with hollows, but there had to be a way into the real world, somewhere.

He stared out at the white emptiness aimlessly, and was broken from his thoughts by the presence of another behind him—Ichigo turned quickly to see Grimmjow lounging against the wall. He tensed immediately and the arrancar chuckled at his reaction.

"I been here for almost half an hour just waiting to see when you'd notice," Grimmjow said. "You're pathetically naïve."

"What d'you want?" Ichigo could feel his stomach clench. He fully expected Grimmjow to lunge at him and start off another fight—or a chase that would lead up to that. Ichigo hated to admit it, but he wasn't a match for the arrancar. Especially not without his sword; Aizen had said in his ambiguous terms that he had no interest in Ichigo until he bested Grimmjow, but where was the possibility of that when they were no longer equal?

"Che, who says I _want_ something?" Grimmjow pushed off from where he was leaning. "Maybe I'm just here for the pleasure of your company, ever think of that?"

"So you're bored, is that it?"

"You're lying if you say you're not."

Ichigo snorted derisively and turned away. Grimmjow walked until he stood beside him, and while Ichigo didn't grant the other man attention, he didn't let his guard down. It'd be just like Grimmjow to lull him into a sense of safety before pouncing.

Grimmjow's hands were on his hips, arrogant and proud. "What're you up to, eh? Felt you prowling around this entire place the last few days. You ain't getting out, so stop trying."

"So sure of that, huh?"

"Yeah," Grimmjow answered him with a flash of white teeth. "And not just cause I'd stop you. Aizen sealed all of Hueco Mundo off; not even us Espada could open a garganta if we wanted."

He shoved Ichigo's shoulder with his own playfully. "So stop dogging around Nel hoping she'll take pity on you. She wouldn't even if she could, and she can't."

Ichigo stiffened; he didn't like Grimmjow acting like they were friends. They weren't.

Grimmjow's words worried him, though. Ichigo hadn't hoped that Nel would aid in his escape, but from what the other man had said, it sounded like there was nothing to hope for it. At least not in this place—but that left the whole of Hueco Mundo to potentially hold a portal to the outside world. Ichigo couldn't believe Aizen was capable of sealing off an entire dimension; the former captain was powerful, but that was beyond imagining.

Grimmjow shifted beside him. "What, are you pissed at me or something?"

"Why shouldn't I be, dickhead? You nearly took my fucking head off earlier!" Ichigo glanced at the other man for the first time. "As long as you keep me captive I'll hate you for it."

"Good," Grimmjow said. "That's the way it should be, yeah?"

Ichigo returned his scowling eyes to the window. Of course Grimmjow was just screwing him around. "Did Aizen give you a lecture?" His voice sounded tight and angry, even to himself.

"Che, what's it matter? I had fun, and I ain't apologizing for it. I don't care if that prick's pissed 'cause of it."

Ichigo turned; Grimmjow looked petulant and chastised, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His blue gaze narrowed at Ichigo, as though he was expecting a challenge.

"Give me back my sword, Grimmjow. I'll give you a good fight then, I won't run."

"Ooh, is that a promise? You sweet-talker." The arrancar sniggered. "You know just what I like to hear."

"It's not for you." Ichigo narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "I can fight as well as I ever have, but I can't do it without Zangetsu."

"Cripple."

"Only because you've _made_ me one," Ichigo countered.

"I didn't take your sword away—it was the only way Aizen let me keep you. Believe it or not, but you can't go blaming everything on me."

"I bet I could." But Grimmjow's statement was revealing. "Aizen won't let you the fight they way you want, Grimmjow. He stopped you before. You said it yourself; I'm not a match for you without my powers. How can you enjoy it this way?"

"I take what I can get," Grimmjow snapped. "I'm not such a dumbass to bite the hand that feeds, you prick. And you're sorely mistaken if you think a zanpakutou would get you any closer to beating me."

Ichigo snorted and turned away. So Aizen knew he would put up more of a struggle if he had his sword; the former captain probably would say it was to preserve what was left of Las Noches from the destructive fight that was sure to follow.

Ichigo knew it was a lie. It made him think even lesser of Grimmjow that the arrancar would face him when Ichigo was artificially weakened.

"You're only fooling yourself," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What're you afraid of? I thought you wanted a good fight, not just—not simply to win when it's easy."

"I love a good fight, Kurosaki, that ain't a lie. But you _are_ lying if you think you could give me one, zanpakutou or not," Grimmjow smirked, full of repulsive self-confidence.

They said nothing for a long time, and Ichigo didn't rush to break the quiet. He had nothing to say to Grimmjow, and the fact that the arrancar remained was annoying.

Ichigo needed time to formulate a plan out of here, and it seemed as though Grimmjow wouldn't snap at the bait he'd laid out. That surprised him—Ichigo knew the other man wanted nothing more than battle, and taking an easy victory was suspicious. Maybe Grimmjow was simply too pleased with himself at the moment to want anything more—and why shouldn't he be? He had Ichigo, his named opponent, subservient and broken before him—and an improved rank. Were there positions reversed, Ichigo would feel quite confident in himself.

Grimmjow shifted beside him, bored. As though their conversation had come to an uncomfortable silence, but what were they going to talk about anyway? Ichigo had nothing to say to the other man, and the distance between them now was strange and awkward. Like he was being petty by ignoring Grimmjow.

"Fuck, you're boring," Grimmjow muttered. "Do something. Let's fight."

"I'm not here for your amusement."

"Actually, yeah, you are," Grimmjow said, his glare hot on Ichigo's skin. "Why else would I've kept you, eh?"

"That's _your_ problem, shithead. Not mine. Believe it or not, I have other things to worry about than beating you."

That made Grimmjow laugh, a predictable loud cackle, "Now _that's_ a goddamn lie if I ever heard one, and you know it."

"You're wrong," Ichigo responded and could feel his shoulders hunch defensively. He _did_ enjoy fighting Grimmjow—when they were evenly matched; it'd taken him to their decisive battle for him to realize it. Ichigo _did_ want to fight him; in part, it was why he came to Hueco Mundo.

Ichigo had won then, and maybe the fact that Grimmjow wouldn't admit it still bothered him. The arrancar acted like Ichigo was weak, when it'd been Ichigo who had bested him earlier. Ichigo knew his pride was getting in the way, and hated it.

Grimmjow brought him back from his thoughts, "Che, who're you trying to convince, eh? I know you loved it. I saw it in your eyes."

"Then why do you keep me so humiliated, Grimmjow?" Ichigo turned to scowl at the arrancar. "If you love a good fight why make it impossible for me? I'll take you on anytime, but not if I know I'm going to lose."

"Pussy," Grimmjow sneered. "I'd fight even if it meant I'd lose. Maybe you gotta learn that to win, eh?"

Maybe Grimmjow didn't know what he was saying, entirely. Ichigo didn't doubt the arrancar required only blood and battle to survive. But it made Ichigo think—if he couldn't win in sheer strength, he had to try other means. He wasn't the cunning strategist that Rukia or Ishida were; Ichigo realized now that he depended on them to make those decisions. Ichigo knew he could learn to be if he needed to—and he did now. His enemies weren't abstract, like the mindless hollows Rukia had trained him against, and he had no allies to hope for.

He would have to adapt in order to defeat Aizen and escape. Grimmjow was simply the largest obstacle between himself and that goal. Or his biggest advantage: Ichigo wondered if the arrancar realized it; Grimmjow saw him only as an opponent, captured and subdued but one that promised an eternal struggle. Ichigo could give it to him, over and over again. Eventually he would win; Ichigo was confident in it. He would continue to grow while Grimmjow stagnated in the surety in his victory but Ichigo would never stop trying.

Through the unending fight between them he could escape, if he gave Grimmjow enough motivation to help him—if only to get his sword, Ichigo imagined; he could lure the arrancar with the promise of a decent fight until Grimmjow gave in and returned Zangetsu to him, and then Ichigo would use it against them all.

"Goddammit, do something," Grimmjow said it as if he was brooding aloud. "I'm gonna go take a nap. You better be more interesting when I wake up, fuckhead."

Ichigo bit his tongue on a retort; Grimmjow would take it as an invitation for the fight he'd been asking for. Ichigo watched the other man go, as Grimmjow turned with an annoyed throw of his shoulders and stalked out of the room.

Ichigo felt strangely alone, again; he hadn't exactly enjoyed Grimmjow's company—anticipating that it would spark off a fight—but it was nice to simply talk to another person. Ichigo wasn't sure if he was comfortable with Grimmjow being an annoying antagonist instead of a simple bully that started and won fights unfairly.

He certainly didn't like the other man. Ichigo didn't like the doubt the conversation put in his mind over how to consider Grimmjow—he was neither enemy nor friend, entirely.

Unlike Nel, whose loyalty to Aizen was unquestionable, Grimmjow was Ichigo's opponent first, Aizen be damned. If the former shinigami captain were out of the equation, Ichigo would have his fight and his victory. He and Grimmjow would still be evenly matched.

Ichigo would take responsibility for handing himself over to the Espada; he'd known what was in store when he surrendered: he was simply a toy to fend off boredom. Ichigo had little intention of letting things remain that way. He liked to think he had a purpose while in Hueco Mundo, if only if it meant simply showing Grimmjow how wrong he was. And if he could undermine Aizen at the same time, more was the better; Ichigo would show them both how wrong they were in underestimating him.


	9. 9

Part 9! Thanks to Q and B for pre-reading and editing.

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Grimmjow was seated on one of the high square pillars that dotted the atrium, waiting.

Aizen had called them all to witness the birth of one of their new brothers or sisters, what _bullshit_—Grimmjow had little patience for the atmosphere of _sibling-hood_ and _family_ the shinigami tried to foster. Didn't matter to him who the newest addition to their ranks was, personality-wise; Grimmjow only gave a shit about power, and if this new little prick turned out to be strong, fuck, he wanted to see it and know how to beat it. No one was taking his new position from him, not without a good goddamn fight.

The creature itself was bound in bandages and contained in one of Aizen's kidoh cells; it wasn't moving, but then none of them did before the hougyoku transformation. Captured or coerced into service—Grimmjow could remember when it'd happened to him. He'd gone willingly, when Aizen's reiatsu beckoned like a flame that they all crouched around for warmth, and the promise of power. He wasn't too proud to admit that the rapid metamorphosis from adjucas to arrancar was what he'd craved for years, and Grimmjow held no regrets for going through the procedure.

From his vantage point, he watched as Kurosaki walked into the wide audience chamber, just easy-as-you-please, not even giving a look to where Grimmjow was sitting. He was surprised the shinigami even came; Grimmjow hadn't pushed him around about watching the show, and imagined it was probably Neliel's doing. Wanting to show off; she'd just put it in different terms so she'd come out smelling like a rose.

Grimmjow'd been chewing on a rough fingernail, and spat a fleck to the side. "Hey," he called, and that got Ichigo's attention as the vaizard's scowling eyes fixed on him. "C'mere."

"Fuck you," Ichigo said, and propped himself up with one shoulder against a corner, his back half-turned to Grimmjow.

It made Grimmjow smile, a bit in annoyance and a bit in satisfaction; it was a good thing that Ichigo never broke against him. But it was irritating, having to drag the little brat around behind him with other people watching. Grimmjow preferred to have Ichigo be the one chasing after his heel and didn't mind pounding on him when he forgot his place, but the judging glances from Nel, Ulquiorra, and even Aizen were enough to make Grimmjow want to beat the little shit until he finally caved.

Having Kurosaki as a constant counter-balance would never get old, Grimmjow just wished they didn't have an avid audience for it. It was fun when he tore the little fucker apart, but Grimmjow knew it drew his rank into question when Ichigo resisted.

"Eh, shit-for-brains," he said, voice carrying through the open room. "Get your ass up here."

"No."

"I'll make you do it."

Ichigo's eyes flicked to his momentarily, before fixing on the bound figure in the center of the room. He shrugged, "Then make me."

Grimmjow snickered; _that_ was an invitation. Grimmjow used a quick sonido to put himself right in the little bastard's face; Kurosaki's eyes widened in momentary surprise before Grimmjow snatched his throat, fingers closing as he slammed the other man up against the wall he'd rested against.

"Here's the deal, you little fuck: I know your brain's thick as mud, but maybe you can process a single word if you hear it often enough, yeah?"

Kurosaki's lip curled as he tried to say something, but Grimmjow jerked him forward, holding him by his throat. He grinned, right in Ichigo's face, "_Obey_."

Then he threw the shinigami over his shoulder, bounding back to where he'd been seated. He dropped Kurosaki in a pile at his feet. "Think you can do that, huh?"

The shinigami was a spluttering heap as Grimmjow crouched down in his previous position. "Don't think you can just toss me around like your personal punching bag, dickhead," Kurosaki snapped, righting himself indignantly.

"Maybe if you didn't make it so easy," Grimmjow shot back over his shoulder. Kurosaki was on his feet, his face flushed and angry; it was a good color on him. Grimmjow was glad, selfishly, that they were the first two in the audience chamber. Just then, Ulquiorra entered the room and Grimmjow knew he didn't have the patience to suffer under any of the other Espadas' glares. Rank numero dos was going to Ulquiorra's head, and Grimmjow knew the prick would enjoy rubbing it in over how he couldn't control his own subordinates.

Fraccion were only as useful as they proved themselves to be, which was why Grimmjow'd never bothered with them in the first place. Pathetic, sniveling arrancar who weren't confident enough with their given rank, and had to seek out stronger masters to serve; they disgusted him. Grimmjow could remember the way Apache had gone around, horn in the air, so _proud_ and _sure_ of herself after Halibel took her in, and the memory rose a sour taste in his mouth. Apache just couldn't stand being ranked so low; faster to get somewhere when you latched onto a person of power, and let _their_ strength speak for you, even if you were subservient.

The difference between Grimmjow and his shinigami was that _he'd_ chosen Kurosaki as a servant—wasn't his fault if the little shit was terrible at it, and frankly, Grimmjow didn't care. He wanted someone strong. He wanted someone _fearless_, who wouldn't bend against him but had to be constantly taught his place; that was Kurosaki to the core.

The shinigami shifted beside him, leaning his shoulders against the rising marble pillar that broke off from the platform they rested on, leaving a small landing. "What the fuck d'you care if I'm here or there?" he muttered.

"Matters t'me," Grimmjow said. He didn't have to look at Ichigo to know he was scowling. "Gotta keep you close. You'll forget who you belong to otherwise."

"You only say it like that to remind _yourself_, jackass—"

Grimmjow's sniggering interrupted him, "D'you even know what you're here about?"

Kurosaki said nothing in return, and a quick glance showed him scowling and irritated. Just the way he should be. Grimmjow was fundamentally a creature of chaos, but he did like certain things to be just-so. He tilted his head to the side and resumed chewing on his thumbnail, "We're gonna sit back on our heels, and watch real admiringly as Aizen-_sama_ pretends he's god and makes a new creature outta clay, that's how he works. And this is where I always sit when he does it; it's the best spot in the house, and it's mine."

Kurosaki didn't say anything for a moment, before echoing Grimmjow's statement, "So this is your spot."

"Damn right."

"You have your own _spot_." He could hear Kurosaki folding his arms across his chest as he leaned heavily against the wall behind him. "You're so fucking weird."

What did he care of what Kurosaki thought? Bad company was better than no company; in fact, _bad_ company was _good_ company in the absence of any company at all. That was how it'd been with Shawlong and Il Forte and Nakim—they were all dicks, but having them around was better than being all on his lonesome, in Grimmjow's mind. And they never gave up their rank, never turned into crawling fraccion…he'd never have taken them like that, even if they'd offered it up.

Come to think of it, he was the only one without bitches to cater, aside from Ulquiorra, and you could probably blame that on the former-fourth Espada's personality alone—

Grimmjow was snickering at his own private joke, and Kurosaki groused, "What's so goddamn funny?"

"Your fucking face," he sneered, and Ichigo made a move to kick him but stopped; Aizen was coming into the room. Grimmjow'd been watching the other arrancar shuffle in with their attendants, and now the show was about to start. Ichigo must've caught on as well, because he stopped and settled back to where he'd been before as Aizen approached the dias where the bound creature was.

"It pleases me that so many of you were able to join us," their lord and master was saying, as though he were preaching to a choir of many, instead of a handful. "Today we will witness the first birth since the fire. The first addition to our line, and we have Neliel to thank for this."

The green-haired girl was standing not too far from Aizen, and her sycophancy made Grimmjow's stomach roil. "Hey Neliel, you got something brown on your nose," he called out to her.

"Better than having a face as green as yours," she returned, smiling, and then smiling at Aizen as he beamed towards her.

Fucking bitch. "What the fuck's that even s'pposed to mean," he muttered.

"Envy," Kurosaki said, as though Grimmjow expected an answer.

"You're full'a shit if you think I'm jealous of her," he snapped to the other man, but Kurosaki was watching the show intently. It was annoying.

Aizen raised the Hougyoku up on its platform and did whatever it was that made the damn little ball do its magic; it crackled and hissed under Aizen's hand, and then there was a burst of power—sheer reiatsu pouring from Aizen to the Hougyoku to the creature, and the barrier surrounding it burst like shards of glass.

Grimmjow squinted against the sudden brightness, but he could tell instantly that this thing wasn't much to speak of at all. Nel might've come back from scouring the desert for possible arrancar, but this new sibling wasn't Espada-strength; it wasn't even in the top twenty.

When the light and dust cleared, there was a naked girl standing in the center of the room; Grimmjow could see her quaking from where he sat. She couldn't look more than twelve, with hair the color of fresh-cut lavender; Grimmjow couldn't tell where her mask-fragment was but her hollow-hole gaped widely on the left side of her chest, biting into the side of one mal-formed, prepubescent breast. Even if she _did_ look like an innocent little thing, Grimmjow knew better; age and form weren't exactly linear when it came to arrancar.

The girl was staring at her hands, horrified it seemed.

"Tell us your name," Aizen said, like he always did. Like they all had names before they had minds.

Instead of a name, the girl-thing just started bubbling, with a shaking voice, "My arms, what happened to my arms?"

"It's alright—" Nel had approached her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulders, but the little naked brat continued to cry.

"I had so many, so many of them, my tentacles—what happened to them?" She was shrieking now, her voice rising in pitch by the syllable, and it made Grimmjow's ears hurt. And then she just started to fucking _scream_, falling down on her knees and wailing like the whole goddamn world was ending—

"Fuck this," Grimmjow snarled, and rose. Kurosaki was rigid beside him, watching. Grimmjow grabbed his upper arm and pulled him along. "We're leaving, it's another fucking broken one."

"What?" Ichigo seemed rooted to the spot. "What's wrong with her?"

The brat was still screaming, tearing at her hair with fingers she'd never had before, rocking back-and-forth while Neliel tried to calm her. Aizen wore his typical, benign expression though under it, Grimmjow could sense his disappointment.

"She's a fucking dud, what more is there to it!" Grimmjow jerked the other man into walking, dragging him behind. The little bitch's screams were starting to piss him off; Grimmjow'd shut her up faster than Nel would, and it'd be kinder than letting her live like she was. "The transition happens like that sometimes, when they're not ready for it. It's Nel's goddamn fault, bringing a brat like that in. C'mon!"

They leapt down from where they'd been watching; Grimmjow knew a quick exit from the room, but the girl's shrieks reached them, echoing into the antechamber beyond. Grimmjow sighed gratefully for the relative quiet, propping his hands on hips as he continued away. He glanced behind to make sure Kurosaki was following; the vaizard had a hand pressed against his mouth as though he were about to be sick.

"Stop worrying so goddamn much. She's crazy but she'll live, if you call that fucking living," Grimmjow snapped.

"Does that happen…a lot?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "It happens. When they try to put too much power into something not ready for it, what d'you expect? Like something that can't hold it all, so they crack and break."

Kurosaki still looked deeply upset, his brows pinching in a pained expression that Grimmjow wasn't familiar or comfortable with. It was too compassionate to his liking, disgusting. It was the way Ichigo had always looked at Nel when she'd been like a toddler. It was the same way Ichigo had looked at _him,_ when he'd thought Grimmjow was defeated.

"Look, okay? It's fine. She's nuts now but someone—probably fucking _Nel,_ since she got the little bitch into this in the first place—someone'll take the brat in and make her fraccion, then she'll have a place and a purpose," Grimmjow said. He wasn't sure why he bothered, making Kurosaki feel less horrible in a place so close to hell it could easily've been called that. "Stop fucking…stop looking like whatever the hell that is you've got on your face."

That seemed to snap the shinigami around, like a rubber band. "What d'you mean by that, asshole?"

"You look all sad, like we just kicked a goddamn puppy," Grimmjow snorted. "That thing's killed more'n you'd think, just remember that. Crazy now, but fuck, she probably ate more human souls than you ever known to get there."

He stopped, hands still on his hips and fucking pissed. Grimmjow wanted a decent goddamn show, and instead they were all treated to psycho-fucking-theater. He'd seen it more than he liked, and it _still_ creeped him out. "You could tell it was junk the second Aizen started pouring juice into her. You get more garbage than anything worthwhile, anyway."

"And you'd know." Kurosaki was getting his familiar scowl back; it was nice. Grimmjow realized he liked that expression best of any.

"Fuck yeah, I would," Grimmjow smiled, wolfishly. He threw his shoulders back. "When they brought me into this world, I fucking blew all the pillars down; they had to rebuild the whole goddamn room."

"Just for you," Kurosaki muttered, snorting derisively as he said it.

"Damn right."

* * *

Grimmjow didn't like when other people made his plans for him; he liked it even less when those plans started to make _sense_.

He wasn't sure when the idea started to sound like a _good_ idea, just that it _did_, and then it was all he could think about. Grimmjow wasn't exactly the type to contemplate plans for very long before acting on them, but he thought about this one—it was, after all, just what Aizen had wanted him to do, but so fucking what if it was? Grimmjow could feel himself going crazier by the second, stuck in Las Noches without much of anything to do. Even Kurosaki was avoiding him, like a spurned little brat, and it was irritating.

Grimmjow could've forced a confrontation easily, but he knew that'd lead to them blowing through the palace and taking half of it with them. Wouldn't really be satisfying if things amounted to less, but Grimmjow knew it'd be his ass on the line while Aizen was breathing down his neck.

He knew a better way to make them both happy, to get him and Kurosaki out and alone—they could destroy anything they could find in the desert—and if what they didn't destroy they captured, well, then Aizen wouldn't have quite as much reason to be scowling at him, would he?

It all made a whole lotta sense in Grimmjow's mind. Nel always got in good with the shinigami because she did whatever he said, no questions asked—Grimmjow wasn't quite that much of a bootlicker. But he could recognize something that'd make his whole life a little less of a pain in the ass: go out, find a hollow for Aizen to experiment on, and while Grimmjow did it, he'd have Kurosaki all to himself.

No Nel to chastise him for breaking his toys. No Ulquiorra to mope around, determined to suck the fun out of any situation he could find. No Aizen to scold him over fighting for no reason. And only Kurosaki, glaring and hateful and _his_; the two of them together, the way they were meant to be.

When Grimmjow made up his mind about something, it was damn hard to change it, even if he himself wanted to—which he didn't, in this case. He couldn't exactly see a downside to his plan; all he had to do now was drag the little fucking shinigami prick along with him. Kurosaki had been stumping around with a wounded-looking expression ever since he'd watched that little arrancar bitch get transformed, and Grimmjow found that most irritating of all. Too much compassion in a place that all but rejected the very concept. The shinigami would get over it; he'd get over it quicker if he was forced to find and conquer a new arrancar recruit.

To make it through a transition meant any hollow ready for it would put up a fight, and Grimmjow was anticipating it with every fiber; his mouth watered just thinking of the battle to come. Ichigo would get over his naïve notions of _compassion_ and _humanity_ fast enough when he was the one fighting the creatures strong enough to be made arrancar.

Grimmjow sensed where the little bastard was and found him, sweeping through a doorway, full of caged energy. "Here you are, shit. I've been looking for you all over."

"For what?" Ichigo was standing beside an open window that looked out onto the desert; it worked out perfectly. Now they wouldn't have to go far to start their trip.

"I got this great idea," Grimmjow said, and knew his voice sounded like it was bubbling with excitement, but he wasn't bothered enough to stop it. "Great fucking idea, wanna hear it?"

"I've had nightmares that started this way."

"Fuck you, you'll love it," Grimmjow snapped, smile not even faltering. "Guess what? We're going hunting."

"What?" Kurosaki looked confused, scowling to cover it.

"That brat Nel brought back got me thinking. It got me thinking about how I could do the same thing, but _better_. And how'd that be, yeah? All Aizen wants these days is _more,_ and we're gonna give it to him." Grimmjow drew himself up to his full height, hands on his hips and grinning. "Nel's always shiny like a diamond in Aizen's mind, and I'm always shit, y'know? But it don't gotta be that way; we just have to give him what he wants."

"It's taken you this long to figure that out, huh?" Ichigo said, crossing his arms. "I hope this isn't supposed to impress me."

"Y'know, you're gonna be stuck with me out there, without anyone around to look after your ass, so you might wanna not piss me off too bad," Grimmjow snorted, derisively. "At least not yet, anyway."

"So when do we leave?" Ichigo turned, expressionless. But Grimmjow caught the slight tension in his shoulders—excitement; the shinigami wasn't afraid at all, of Grimmjow or whatever they were setting off to find. That suited Grimmjow just about perfect.

"Che, knew you'd be into it," Grimmjow smiled widely, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Wanna go now, eh? Think you can?"

"I'm ready whenever the fuck you are, bastard," Kurosaki snapped.

"You'll need this, then." He'd had the little prick's zanpakutou, stored off in a place the shinigami wouldn't ever be able to find, and he tossed it to Kurosaki now.

Ichigo caught it automatically, staring at the sword without recognition. "What the fuck is this?"

"It's your sword," Grimmjow said simply. "Can't you tell even that? Fuck."

Though it looked like only a simple katana, it was the little bastard's own—Grimmjow wouldn't let a prize like that out of his grasp, same as how he wouldn't let Kurosaki himself go. But Aizen had insisted on placing a seal over it, so the shinigami couldn't release his bankai—more cautionary bullshit that Grimmjow had no time for. He'd rather have the sword as he knew it in Kurosaki's hands: long, black, and deadly. But this simple, unreleased thing was the best that they both could hope for now; Grimmjow would give Aizen his concessions as long as it meant Kurosaki got a sword at all.

"Aizen put a limiter on it so you can't use it against me," Grimmjow said simply. "But it's yours. The one I took from you. I'm taking it back after this, but no sense in going off on a chase and having you helpless. I wanna see you fight, shinigami; I'm not about to play nursemaid on this mission."

Kurosaki scowled at the comment, but regarded the sword carefully. "As if I ever needed you to watch out for me," he snapped spitefully, but fastened the sheathed sword at his hip.

"You always seem to need someone," Grimmjow sneered. "So c'mon; we're gonna find the best fucking bitch we can, someone Aizen can't refuse. And then I can have a good time off from appeasing the asshole, and it'll look good on us both, right?"

Grimmjow shoved Kurosaki's shoulder as he passed by him, jumping onto the windowsill before leaping from it. It was an easy three stories, and falling made Grimmjow's stomach lurch excitedly. He landed in a crouch on the ground; dusty sand billowing up around him. Grimmjow sneered up at the shinigami from where he watched, high above, and hoped his smirking teeth showed through the haze.

Kurosaki didn't hesitate another moment, and sprang after him from the windowsill in a shallow dive. He used the side of the building to slide down before jumping off the wall to land soundlessly beside Grimmjow.

Little fucking show-off.

"Che, how graceful," Grimmjow sneered.

"Something you could learn."

"What, you rather be with someone dainty? I ain't Ulquiorra—"

"Thank _fuck_—" Ichigo interrupted, and Grimmjow smiled.

"See? You don't hate me after all."

"I wouldn't go that far," Kurosaki muttered, and half-shrugged a shoulder. "Just…better than the alternative."

"Works for me." And Grimmjow stared out, hearing the shinigami fall into step behind him.

Grimmjow wasn't exactly sure where he was headed, really—there was a lot of wide, open space all around Las Noches; it'd been full of hollows at one point, just like the rest of Hueco Mundo. Aizen's strength drew them all in, the promise of something phenomenally powerful, and any that dared to approach the complex were either snatched up as specimens or disposed of easily.

It'd been a long time since Grimmjow was sent out to find new hollows for the transformation; he knew they'd have to go for a ways before they found anything of real power. They could be like Nel, sure, and pick up some immature creature that held promise, but would break as soon as real power got thrust into it. Grimmjow had his eyes on something bigger; they'd have to go at least a couple of days to find hollows unswayed by Aizen's mere presence alone.

Grimmjow wanted something strong, something with its own mind. A hunt with a hint of danger was the best kind; tracking after something that could easily kill you if you let it. Grimmjow glanced over his shoulder and met Kurosaki's icy stare; he realized he had such a thing already.

* * *

Yay, adventure time!


	10. 10

Thank you to those who continue to read, and everyone who's left a comment. I truly appreciate all the encouragement.

Thanks in particular to Q and B for editing.

* * *

They walked for miles, together, with the desert around them, the thin sliver of a moon hanging forever in the distance. Grimmjow knew it would take a while, maybe a day's travel before they got far enough from Las Noches to expect a fight with anything worth a damn. Such was the problem living somewhere that basically bled reiatsu into the open dessert; no hollow that wasn't worth its salt would go chasing up against the walls of Las Noches. Grimmjow knew, though, that having the shinigami with him was more of an advantage than the brat realized—Grimmjow could barely restrain himself from consuming the little skinny prick's reiatsu, and Grimmjow was Espada. He knew the mindless, craving beasts of Hueco Mundo would never be able to resist the shinigami's tantalizing scent.

Hell, he counted on it. They weren't more than a day's journey from Aizen's stronghold before they were attacked. Grimmjow had been walking with long strides; he wanted to leap into sonido-speeds to hasten their travel, but knew it was a wasted effort. The shinigami would never have been able to keep up with him. It annoyed Grimmjow, wanting as he did to start up a fight between them, but then he was saved the effort by a bunch of weak, reiatsu-starved hollows. The creatures attacked both of them without hesitation.

Grimmjow was eager for the fight, even if they were worthless—small, lesser hollows; the best of them might generously have been called Gillion but after that, nothing worth mentioning. He tore through them all, and the shinigami did the same, beside him. It seemed right, and Grimmjow didn't question it.

They were finished in minutes; Grimmjow was left anxious and excited, waiting for more but nothing came. The shinigami stood several yards away from him, shoulders square and a familiar permanent scowl etched across his face. Grimmjow remembered the fast moves of the shinigami's sword while they fought alongside one another; Ichigo was like a weapon himself, and Grimmjow wanted _more_.

"That enough for you, eh?" He leered at Kurosaki, who was still tense and ready.

"Don't see much else," Kurosaki said. His sword was wet with black blood; Grimmjow could smell it, and it stank. Not the same flavor as the shinigami's, that was a good taste—Grimmjow wouldn't've minded spilling that over and over, and it was a shame Kurosaki would die if he did.

"Nah," Grimmjow shrugged. "But you can't tell me that was satisfying, right? I can't even feel happy after a battle like that. You'll disgust me even more than you already do if you say you're finished."

"Then what, Grimmjow?" Ichigo glared at him, arrogantly. A challenge Grimmjow couldn't wait to take on. "You brought me out here to find something strong—is that the best you've got?"

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, "We'll find something yet," he said. "But until then, I'll take you. Take you over everything else; you'll give me a good fight, won't you?"

"Don't even fucking start with that—" Kurosaki began as Grimmjow leapt at him. He was able to drive the little brat back; the shinigami's strength was nothing against Grimmjow's own, even using only his bare hands.

"Aw, c'mon," Grimmjow jeered. "You said it before, if I got you away from Aizen and beyond his stare—you said you'd give me a good fight. Don't back down on me now."

"We might be away from him, but this sword's still sealed. I can't match you, Grimmjow; if you take this as a victory, I'll only hate you more."

"I'll take it, yeah," Grimmjow answered. "I'll take every inch. Every part of you, until you _break_—"

He snatched the shinigami's sword, sharp and slippery with something else's blood, but dull and worthless against him. Grimmjow held it for only a moment before jerking back so he could throw it—and the little brat, still holding on tight to his zanpakutou—over the sands. Kurosaki slammed into the ground several yards away and bounced once before skidding to a stop. Grimmjow was crouched, excited. He wanted the shinigami to crawl to his feet and _run_, scared, the way things should've been. No one would stop the two of them now.

Unless Kurosaki stopped things before they even began: Grimmjow waited for him to stand, but he never did. The brat was motionless before curling up on himself, pain etched into each turn of his body; he seemed injured and _why_—Grimmjow hadn't thrown him _that_ hard. He frowned. Maybe he'd underestimated how weak the little prick was to begin with.

Grimmjow stalked towards him, and the shinigami scrabbled at the sand as he tried to gather himself. It was pitiful to watch. "You're so pathetic," Grimmjow spat, drawing closer. He stood over the other man, whose face was twisted in pain. "You disgust me."

"Fuck you!" Ichigo snapped. He was favoring one side, the shoulder he'd fallen upon when Grimmjow had thrown him—it was probably dislocated.

"Get up." Grimmjow glared at him murderously, as if it would motivate the little prick to pull it together faster. This was a pain in Grimmjow's ass, if he could really bust the brat up so easily. Fortunately, they were close to Las Noches, and taking the shinigami back wouldn't be too much of a trouble. But still, Grimmjow didn't like playing gently with his toys, especially when they were Ichigo; the little fucker should've been able to take twice as much and bounce right back, hot and angry and ready to fight. It made Grimmjow's snarling, hungry anger focus on Aizen, the one who'd trapped the both of them in this worthless fight.

"Shit," Grimmjow snorted. He bent and grabbed Ichigo's uninjured arm, jerking him to his feet. "I didn't even hit you that goddamn hard."

"No, you didn't!" Ichigo twisted in an instant, whipping around to slam his fist into Grimmjow's chin.

It was the arm he'd been favoring, and even as Grimmjow's head was thrown back from the blow, he was laughing; he'd believed the little bastard's ploy, every step of the way.

As he came skidding to a stop, Grimmjow found himself giggling still, excited; every inch of him was awake and ready.

Kurosaki didn't give him time to recover, rushing Grimmjow with all his strength faster than Grimmjow could follow with his eyes. But he could read the brat's movements and met him each time, even if it meant he was driven back—Grimmjow could feel his stomach leap for what must've been the first time in ages; _this_ was the fight he'd been waiting for.

He answered one of Kurosaki's strikes with his fist in the shinigami's chest, knocking him off balance and back a bit. "Now that's what I'm looking for," he sniggered. "But I didn't expect you to start playing dirty so quick; is that all you have left to beat me with?"

"It's enough," Ichigo scowled. They faced each other for a long moment; Grimmjow's jaw still ached from the impact of the little fucker's fist. It was a nice pain, inviting even; it made him anticipatory for what would follow, and he hoped to do twice the damage to Kurosaki once he got an opening. Grimmjow wasn't one to wait for long, not with the shinigami glaring at him with heated eyes; he rushed the little bastard and they grappled. Grimmjow hadn't yet drawn his sword, and he caught Kurosaki's zanpakutou when the brat tried to run him through, wrenching it aside hard enough to make Ichigo yelp.

That was a good sound, a good _look_ on him: defiant and angry, with a hint of pain coloring the edges. Grimmjow wanted it over and over again, until Kurosaki was on his knees: impotent and hateful, unable to stop him though he wanted to with every fiber.

Kurosaki's sword arm was twisted to the side, and Grimmjow drew up against him, snaring a hand in the shinigami's thick hair to yank his head back. Kurosaki thrashed out of his hold, and Grimmjow was surprised to find his hand stinging and bleeding—even if the zanpakutou was sealed, it could still do damage if the little prick used it right. Grimmjow dodged away from another slashing assault to draw his own blade.

"You've still got some teeth left, don't you?" he cackled, lunging and meeting Kurosaki's attack with one of his own. "That's good. I want it like this, with you like this—"

"Kicking your ass, you mean?" Ichigo snarled through gritted teeth. Even if Grimmjow was enjoying things, the shinigami wasn't taking it for a game. That was just how Grimmjow liked it. He slapped the brat across the side of his head, and laughed as Kurosaki stumbled.

Grimmjow didn't have time to enjoy the flustered, angry flush coloring the other man's face before Kurosaki was at him again, catching Grimmjow's side with the tip of his sword. He dodged but felt its cold bite, adding a hint of danger to things, but Grimmjow knew it'd make the prick cocky, believing that if he _just tried hard enough_ he could win. Grimmjow had no intention of letting that happen, and would enjoy rubbing the shinigami's face in his inevitable defeat.

Grimmjow pressed in against him suddenly, right into the little fucker's face until Ichigo recoiled. Grimmjow took that one moment of hesitation to whip the legs right out from under the other man. Kurosaki fell, but rolled away when Grimmjow tried to pounce upon him, and the two of them were tangled as they scrambled in the sand for the upper hand. Grimmjow butted his head upwards, stunning the shinigami and Ichigo rolled on his back, spitting out a mouthful of grit. He recovered fast enough that he met Grimmjow's blade as he lunged towards him.

"Get off of me, you piece of shit!" Kurosaki wedged his knee between them, dangerously close to Grimmjow's hollow hole. It wasn't something that'd take him down, but a hard blow against that vulnerable part was never welcome. Grimmjow didn't want the bastard to get any ideas, and shoved his body weight back, pinning the brat's legs beneath him.

"You put up a good fight when you forget your place," Grimmjow sneered. "But this is where you belong, crawling under me. I didn't keep you for nothing."

"Quit saying that, freak!"

"You said it first, when you gave yourself up. Can't take it back now."

Kurosaki thrashed wildly in response, his face a snarling mask. And then his eyes widened; Grimmjow realized they were fixed on a point over his shoulder. "Look out!"

Grimmjow almost laughed, "Oh c'mon, I don't fall for such cheap tricks twice—"

Several things happened very rapidly: Kurosaki snagged a fistful of Grimmjow's hair, hard enough that it hurt, and yanked his head forward until it was pressed against the shinigami's flesh, near his throat. The smell of him hit Grimmjow's senses like a lance through his chest, hot and intoxicating. It left his lungs feeling as though they'd been burned to ash, and he groaned deep in his chest. Grimmjow's mouth was so close to the shinigami's hard-beating pulse that all he had to do was _bite down,_ until he was drowning in Kurosaki's smell and taste—his life as it poured out.

Grimmjow felt dazed but wasn't completely gone. He felt Kurosaki shift, swinging his sword in a wide arc, and then a hollow's roar shook Grimmjow back to his senses fully. Fuck, the little prick hadn't been screwing with him; something actually had snuck up behind them. That was irritating. Grimmjow hated for anything to get the jump on him, especially pipsqueak hollows who thought they were big enough to pick a fight.

Kurosaki rolled them both as a dull thud sounded from where they'd been only a moment before. Ichigo broke away from him and got to his feet, and Grimmjow realized the brat had sliced off one of the hollow's arms. It had plenty to spare. They'd both been sprayed in the thing's blood, and it was screaming; Kurosaki didn't hesitate more than a moment before leaping at it, and Grimmjow watched him tear the hollow apart.

He still felt a little wobbly on his feet, and wasn't sure why—Grimmjow blamed it on the way every nerve felt saturated in Kurosaki's smell; as a hollow, he'd always ached hungrily for a taste of power like that, and the shinigami was like a drug. Something clenched in Grimmjow's stomach as he watched Kurosaki take the hollow down: even if the brat didn't stand a chance against him, Grimmjow was glad the shinigami was strong. He wouldn't've wanted Kurosaki otherwise.

Ichigo whipped blood off his sword with a quick flick of his wrist, "Thanks for the help."

Grimmjow smiled wolfishly in response. "So you needed it after all, is that what you're saying?"

"You could at least be grateful, you ass. That thing would've taken off your head."

"Is that what you think?" Grimmjow didn't thank people for anything, especially not Kurosaki—and he hadn't needed it anyway; if the hollow that'd attacked them had such a meager reiatsu that Grimmjow hadn't even noticed it, the thing would never have put a scratch on him. That went double for any hollow Kurosaki could take down on his own; the brat's skills were pitiful.

He felt a twinge in his mind: other hollows were gathering to them. Maybe Grimmjow _had_ gotten a little too caught up in their earlier fight. Kurosaki jumped to his side. "Shit," he hissed. "There's more."

"Uh-huh. More than you can handle?" Grimmjow snatched his sword from where it'd fallen during the previous confusion. "You're not stealing every kill this time, you little fuck."

"You wish." Kurosaki rolled his eyes, but didn't spare a moment before leaping at their enemy. Grimmjow followed, and it was _fun_, for the short time it lasted—having something he could fight against without worrying about breaking it accidentally. But it didn't last long enough—good battles never did—and Grimmjow was left bubbling with spare energy and nothing remaining to spend it on. The desert stretched out around them, empty and white; too quiet for what Grimmjow preferred.

Kurosaki stood a short distance from him, breathing heavily and covered in blood. Grimmjow knew that little of it was the shinigami's own, aside from what was oozing from a deep scratch on Kurosaki's shoulder. He must've grappled with something, or been too slow to avoid claws, and his blood-scent was pouring out of it.

Something about that wasn't quite right, in Grimmjow's mind: he'd claimed that part of the shinigami once himself, with his teeth. He didn't like another hollow putting a mark over it. The brat always stood so straight with his shoulders thrown back, proud and arrogant, and Grimmjow liked knowing that the other man wasn't able to do that any longer. Not without the reminder Grimmjow had etched into the bastard's flesh with his own teeth, a brand signaling who he belonged to. Ichigo would be wearing that for the rest of his life.

His _life_, which Grimmjow owned. He stalked up to the shinigami, still itching for a fight—the one they'd had hadn't been decisive—and snatched the torn fabric to inspect the damage. Kurosaki twisted away almost immediately, but Grimmjow caught him and held his struggling body fast against his own.

"What the fuck?" Ichigo spat, straining in Grimmjow's hands.

"You're bleeding."

"So what d'you care?"

Grimmjow could smell the hot-copper pulse, and lowered his mouth to the wound. The damage wasn't bad, only two deep lacerations. Beneath it, Grimmjow could see the scars left over from his teeth, and tasted them with a long sweep of his tongue. He remembered the dizzying rush from before when he'd had his face and nose pressed into the shinigami's skin, and Ichigo shuddered under his hands in disgust. Anything hollow would be drawn to a reiatsu like Kurosaki's, but it was Grimmjow's alone, _his_—the shinigami could fight off the mindless hordes that came after him, but he'd always be like a wave smashing on rocks to Grimmjow, never doing a damn thing though he tried so hard—

"Let _go_ of me," he snarled, and jerked away. Grimmjow released him, satisfied that what he'd marked as his still was. Kurosaki's face was flushed, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Grimmjow smirked widely; he knew his mouth was probably painted with the kid's blood but he didn't care. "S'not as bad as I thought it'd be."

"So you'll see that it gets worse, is that it? Fuck, you're disgusting."

And with that, Kurosaki turned, stomping off. The little shit didn't even know where he was going most likely, just _away_, but Grimmjow had no intention of letting that happen. He caught up easily and walked at Ichigo's side; the brat scowled at the open desert in front of him and didn't acknowledge that Grimmjow was there. That was fine—Ichigo didn't have to; his avoidance was attention enough.

Night found the two of them hunkered down under the overhang of a cluttered mass of sand-worn boulders. The weather had turned, Grimmjow could smell it happening while they traveled—the shifting of the sand and wind that promised a storm—and he'd pushed the both of them until they were exhausted and aching. But it was better to find shelter of any sort to wait out a sandstorm. Grimmjow might've been able to weather it, but he knew the shinigami's skin would get blasted from his bones.

There wasn't much room for anything in their makeshift shelter, and the wind howled inhumanly through the rocks. Grimmjow wasn't bothered by it or the cold draft, but the shinigami shivered pathetically beside him. Grimmjow could feel Kurosaki's shoulders tremble where they were pressed together in the cramped quarters. Not enough space to get far enough away from each other, but it wasn't like Grimmjow had a problem with that.

What he _did_ have a problem with was the shinigami shaking like a goddamn leaf beside him. Every time Grimmjow shut his eyes and lazed into a welcome doze, Kurosaki would shiver like he was rattling his bones. It jerked Grimmjow back to consciousness rudely and repeatedly, until he was so annoyed that he looped an arm around Ichigo's neck and pulled the little prick's skinny frame up against his own.

"Fuck off!" Ichigo shoved away.

"_You_ fuck off!" Grimmjow spat in return. "I can't fucking sleep with you acting so goddamn pathetic. Settle down or I'll knock you the fuck out, I don't care how it goes so long as I get some goddamn sleep."

And with that he dragged the shinigami back, shut his eyes and stolidly ignored the other man. Serve the prick right to shiver all night, and Grimmjow would've let it happen had they not been in such tight quarters. "You're weak if you let a little chill like this bother you."

Ichigo was stiff against him, but relaxed after several long minutes, and Grimmjow sighed gratefully. Running and fighting all day made him tired in a good, bone-deep way, but it also made him irritable as _fuck_. He'd throttle the shinigami before he was kept up all night.

"I'm not cold," Kurosaki muttered, bitterly. "I'm shivering because you're so revolting."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself," Grimmjow answered, before he lapsed into a blissful, uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

WHATTA CHEESY END TO THIS CHAPTER DD:

And one note: Now, goddammit! Not one week after I posted that last chapter including my crazy "Grimmjow's fraccion" theory, and KT has to joss the crap out of it by posting official stats! Could you maybe have published that in time for a rewrite? *SIGH, OH THE INDIGNITY*


	11. 11

Thanks as always to everyone who's left a thoughtful review, or just read and enjoyed the fic so far :D I also appreciate my helpful betas, B and Q, who always have awesome suggestions!

* * *

Ichigo was alone when he woke up, _thankfully_. It was humiliating, being treated like a pitiful stray dog, huddling against Grimmjow for warmth. It didn't matter that he'd been freezing his ass off. He stretched, and felt a dull ache in his shoulder from fighting the day before, and from sleeping in such an awkward position. Ichigo didn't mind the scratch wound—it was nothing—but Grimmjow's possessive attention to it made his skin crawl.

The wind had died down during the night, though not before it'd blown enough sand into their sheltered crevice to coat Ichigo in a fine, itching dust. Every pore felt clogged and grainy, and his eyes stung from the sand that'd become caught in his eyelashes. He crawled out of their hiding place, and the entire desert looked rearranged and foreign; Ichigo knew he'd be lost in this place without Grimmjow as a guide, and it sickened him.

He'd hoped on some level that getting away from Las Noches would give him an opportunity to escape, but after playing along with Grimmjow's mission, he'd come to grudgingly realize that striking off on his own would be foolish. He hadn't even noticed the shift in the wind the day before that led to the blistering sandstorm, and would've been caught out in the open had he been on his own.

"Finally up, you lazy-ass," Grimmjow's voice made him jump; the arrancar was perched on top of their rocky cover, grinning in irritating smugness. Clearly, though he'd put up enough of a stink about it the night before, the man had gotten plenty of sleep. He looked ready for another day of walking aimlessly, his clothes stained rusty brown from the previous day's fight. Ichigo realized he must've looked just as awful, and wondered why the hell he'd gone along with this idiotic scheme in the first place.

"Piss off," Ichigo yawned. He scratched his itchy scalp; it was going to take an hour-long soak in the tub to get rid of all the sand and blood crusted onto him. "Where're we going, Grimmjow?"

"What, bored already? And we were just starting to have fun yesterday." The smug leer didn't leave Grimmjow's face, as though he couldn't wait for another repeat of their earlier fight. Ichigo wasn't surprised, but the arrancar's attitude was beginning to wear against his last nerve. "Lucky for you, we're getting close. I can feel it now, not too far off."

"And what're you _feeling_?" Ichigo snorted. He couldn't tell a damn difference, and though he knew he was terrible at sensing reiatsu, he hated that Grimmjow was better at it than he was. It was petty, but he didn't care.

"Something big. What we came out here for, right? The strongest fucking hollow we can find." Grimmjow leapt down beside him and punched Ichigo's arm, making him stumble. "You're still up for it, ain't ya?"

"I can take anything you can, asshole!"

"Che, we'll see about that, won't we."

And Grimmjow started off, his shoulders thrown back confidently. Ichigo half wanted to rush him right then, for treating him as such a minor threat. Every small indignity seemed magnified, and his patience was nearing the snapping point.

Ichigo estimated they were at least two days into the desert, though he doubted he'd be able to find his way back to Las Noches on his own—as if he wanted to return to that place. But getting away from it, even if it was temporary, was welcome; he was surprised to find himself enjoying the fights he shared with Grimmjow, if simply because they were on more equal terms. Not completely fair, still, but more than Ichigo was afforded under Aizen's watchful gaze. It bothered him, the way the shinigami captain had tempted him with defeating Grimmjow and taking over his position. Ichigo imagined it would be impossible back at the palace, and he truly had no interest in Grimmjow's rank, but Aizen's poisoned suggestion lingered in his mind.

Ichigo caught up to the other man, walking at his side. "So how powerful is this thing, anyway?"

"What, you can't even tell that? You're hopeless."

"Shut up," Ichigo snapped. It was annoying precisely because it was true.

Grimmjow shrugged. "Seems big, even from here. A lot better than Nel's little bitch."

Ichigo waited for a moment and Grimmjow continued, "Anything less than adjucas, and it's a wasted effort to turn something into an arrancar. Aizen only wants the best, and that's why it took us so long to get out here—they've already collected whatever's worthwhile closer to Las Noches, but this thing I feel, it's more than anything Aizen's seen in weeks."

Ichigo said nothing in return; he knew only the basics of what Soul Society had told him of the change in hollow evolution. It made him wonder what Grimmjow had been like before he'd become an arrancar. Most likely as insufferable then as he was now—or worse, were that even possible. Ichigo had gotten a few clues to the arrancar's true nature when Grimmjow had released his resurrection-form, and was almost afraid to ask if that was a true reflection of his old self—hair down to his ass like an idiot, and twice the obnoxious show-off that he normally was.

Ichigo had been glaring at the arrancar from the corner of his eye, and Grimmjow'd taken notice, turning and leering with a mouth full of teeth. "Like what you see, huh? You looking to start a fight, prick?"

"Hardly," Ichigo snapped, and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned his gaze to the space before them; more rocks were poking out of the sand as Grimmjow led them towards fuck-knew-what.

Grimmjow made a huffing sound, "Finally learning your place, then. That's something, at least."

"You're delusional."

Grimmjow stopped abruptly, and Ichigo tensed, expecting the fight he'd been passively provoking. Instead, the arrancar was staring at the distance, his eyes eager and transfixed. "Tell me you can't feel that, eh?" Grimmjow murmured. "I can tell he's there, all the way from here. We're close."

Ichigo shut his eyes, concentrating. He couldn't tell anything on the outset, but clenched his eyes hard, and in the distance, he felt something—like a white spark that turned into an ember, burning still even when he rose his head. "I can feel him."

"Hah," Grimmjow smiled. "Can you see how strong he is then, yeah? I can't wait to meet him." He turned towards Ichigo with a wide-grinning face. "You ready, shinigami?"

"For anything you can dish out, bastard," Ichigo snarled, and Grimmjow laughed.

"Then let's go!" He sprang into a run, as if racing. Ichigo had to press himself to catch up, and then the two of them were equal; Grimmjow using sonido to leap over miles and miles while Ichigo followed him using his own speed.

It took only moments, and without even trying, Ichigo could feel something before them, strong and oppressive. He hated to imagine what it might be, and didn't share in Grimmjow's unrestrained excitement.

"Fuck, I can't wait for this," Grimmjow said, as if all he longed for was a fight. Before them were cobbled, broken boulders like the rocks they'd huddled under the night before.

"What's the plan?"

Grimmjow shrugged dismissively, "Find him. Fight him, whatever it takes. He's coming with us, but probably won't want to."

"How are you planning on taking him back?"

Grimmjow seemed too preoccupied with the present to be concerned with what happened after. "Che, that's easy; worry about beating him, huh?" Grimmjow said, and shoved Ichigo, making him stumble. "You start here, yeah? I'll catch you on the other side, shinigami."

And then he disappeared in a burst of static. Ichigo bristled, annoyed. _On the other side of _what_?_

Just like Grimmjow to drag him along and then make him do all the work. Ichigo didn't even know what he was looking for. The area was unlike the uniform dunes they'd passed through earlier; rocks worn down by the weather like a crushed ant's nest. He wandered, sensing with his meager abilities—Grimmjow was beyond him at a great distance, working his way from the opposite end of the rubbled area.

Distracted as he was following Grimmjow's reiatsu, Ichigo failed to notice the presence before him until it spoke. "I was thinking I'd have to chase after such a treat like yourself, but here you came right to me."

He halted, feeling as though his stomach was falling straight out of him—the thing in front of him was enormous. A hollow to be sure, but nothing like Ichigo had seen yet in their travels; it was huge and its reiatsu was repulsive and consuming. Ichigo's hand went immediately to Zangetsu at his side—if it truly _was_ his sword, which he still doubted, but he wasn't exactly afforded the luxury of doubt at a time like this. "Holy shit," Ichigo hissed, and the hollow chuckled

"Strange to have such a little thing giving off so much power," it said. It towered above him: a giant snake, Ichigo thought at once, with a hollow-bone mask covering its snouted face. Its tongue flicked out, and it was black and forked. "But your scent is different—here I thought I'd finally enjoy a shinigami for the first time in ages, but you stink of hollow, boy."

"I _am_ a shinigami," Ichigo said, glaring up at its face, atop its monstrous body. "Not like it's any business of yours."

"Are you one of those _things_ they've been making, eh? Disgusting." The hollow sniffed in disgust, cocking its head to the side as it considered Ichigo. He realized it was probably talking about the arrancar—it most likely could sense enough to realize the foreign reiatsu emanating from Las Noches, as far away from it as they were.

"Why don't you come with me and find out?"

The thing smiled, if one could call it a smile; there were rows of sharp teeth filling its face. Lanky black hair like Spanish moss bled down from the crown of its head, which was shaped narrowly like a lizard's, and it was regarding Ichigo as though he were a snack, "You ought to learn some manners to match your size. Little things ought to learn their place, or have it _taught_ to them."

Ichigo didn't like being lectured by anyone—or anything, _this_ thing in particular. "I'm actually being generous, giving you an offer to come willingly. I guess I'll just have to carve you up and bring you back in chunks."

"Is that right?" The hollow laughed, and Ichigo could see inside its gaping jaws, a second set of teeth set deep in its throat. "You are making this more enjoyable than I could've ever imagined, you little smartass. I haven't tasted shinigami in what seems like ages; I'd forgotten how arrogant your kind are. Which will only make this sweeter, I'm sure."

Ichigo caught movement in the corner of his eye a moment before the hollow struck—its long, snaking tail shot towards him, and Ichigo only barely countered with his zanpakutou. The hollow's strength was enough to make him stumble, but he threw the creature's tail away from himself and jumped back, putting distance between himself and the hollow's long teeth.

"You really didn't want to do that." Ichigo could feel excitement leap in his stomach. "Just remember, you're the one who started this, bastard."

"On the contrary, _you_ are the one who came looking for _me_. Now why is that?"

"If you know enough about the shinigami, you'll know why they're here, eh? Don't you want to become more powerful? They can make it happen."

"I prefer to feast on your kind than serve them," the hollow replied. "And it has been too long since I enjoyed the taste of shinigami—though your reiatsu is impure, it will have to do."

The thing's words made Ichigo remember what Rukia had told him, ages ago it seemed—how hollows craved the spiritual nourishment of shinigami over all other souls. Ichigo himself had been hunted for his soul's taste, even before he'd gotten Rukia's powers.

"Why do you want my soul that badly?" Ichigo asked, impulsively. It was something he'd wondered for a long time, and the way the creature was regarding him and the way Grimmjow did was disturbingly familiar: as though Ichigo was nothing more than a treat to be devoured and savored.

Ichigo hadn't truly expected an answer, but the hollow seemed content to toy with him a while longer. "Because you are our opposite. Exactly the _other_—the difference, when compared to us." Ichigo could see its waving tail in the periphery of his vision, winding up for another strike, and braced himself. "Nothing satisfies the hunger inside me like your kind. Too long have I gone without it."

And then its tail whipped out; Ichigo saw it coming in the corner of his eye and tried to block, but instead of a direct strike, the winding length snared around him quicker than Ichigo could react. It crushed the wind from his lungs in an instant, lifting him into the air until Ichigo was equal to the creature's face.

It grinned, and Ichigo writhed in its tail's grasp. "You were saying you would bring me back in pieces? That'll be difficult from inside my belly." Ichigo spat a curse, but the thing only held him tighter, squeezing his ribs until Ichigo couldn't breathe.

Its mouth opened up, rows upon rows of teeth in the mouth of a serpent; Ichigo's heart leapt and stuttered against the restraining bone-covered tail clutching him. He braced Zangetsu against his forearm—the hollow had him around his waist and chest but Ichigo's arms were still free. With the last breath in his lungs, Ichigo bellowed, "_Bankai_!"

He was expecting a surge of reiatsu—what normally came, when he released himself completely, and Ichigo cursed himself for not going on the offensive earlier. But as he shouted his release…nothing happened. Nothing.

Ichigo felt his heart stop, from the constricting weight against his chest, and the instantaneous despair—Aizen hadn't simply sealed his sword so he couldn't use it against Grimmjow; he'd sealed it completely. Ichigo couldn't release his power, and he felt as insignificant as an insect compared to the hollow holding him.

He knew he could still do some damage to the thing as soon as it tried to swallow him, he only needed to get closer to its vulnerable mouth. The hollow's tongue lolled out, wet and putrid, and Ichigo swiped at it but missed. The hollow laughed, "Hah, I always did enjoy a good fight! But this is pitiful, boy—I'm supposed to believe you'll give me greater power, when you can't even damage me?"

"Just try swallowing me, bastard. I'll tear through your throat!" Ichigo kicked his legs, thrashing and trying to unbalance the creature, but it only gripped him tighter until Ichigo's head spun dizzily. He could feel his ribs crack sickly; Ichigo hadn't felt true fear since he'd come to this place, and this was how it was all going to end—not at Grimmjow's hands or Aizen's, but on a stupid errand and to some nameless hollow.

He tried to cut through the tail holding him, but his angle was awkward and Ichigo could feel the strength leaving his limbs by the second. The hollow was like a constrictor, crushing him until he suffocated before choosing to eat him. Ichigo's eyes clenched, furious at himself for allowing this thing to lure him into its clutches, and seething at Aizen for limiting his power—but above all, he was furious at Grimmjow, for bringing him along on this wild scheme only to disappear when Ichigo actually need the fucker.

* * *

DUN DUN DUN _**DUN**_!


	12. 12

I should probably wait longer between postings just to make everyone ~*~stew~*~ in the cliffhanger, but—oh well!

* * *

Ichigo gagged on his own breath, unable to dwell on his hateful thoughts for that stupid prick Grimmjow for long enough—he knew if he didn't do some damage to the hollow, he'd black out, and then what? He didn't delude himself with the ridiculous notion of help, and if it came from Grimmjow, Ichigo knew he'd hate that even more. Some things were worse than dying, and he knew the fucker would only lord the debt over him.

_And so what if he did?_ Ichigo thought, very calmly. _It wouldn't exactly change things one way or the other._

Oxygen deprivation was clearly setting in.

Ichigo thrashed in a panicked frenzy with the last of his failing strength, brain fogging at the edges—he almost imagined he _saw_ something in the corner of his mind, and that was definitively impossible. His eyes were clenched tightly shut as he tried to force air into his chest, fingers growing numb even as they gripped the hilt of his sword; he heard a rushing like blood—

—Then his body jerked violently, and Ichigo's eyes snapped open. The tail holding him had been cut, and he was in free-fall. The enormous hollow howled in agony, and Ichigo's own limbs flailed wildly in the air.

An arm looped around his chest and swept him upwards, "Miss me, eh, shinigami?"

It was Grimmjow, and Ichigo was filled with both relief and seething hatred. He was unable to form words, gagging air back into his lungs. The Espada landed once, securing his grasp around Ichigo, before leaping off the ground. They alighted onto a tall, rocky outcropping, and Grimmjow dropped Ichigo at his feet. His shivering limbs failed to support him, and Ichigo retched; his chest burned, and he knew his ribs were broken. Still, he managed to shoot a glare at the arrancar from his prone position, heaving air back into his lungs.

Grimmjow smirked at him, snickering, "Che, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"

"Fuck you, you goddamn asshole!" It wasn't much of a comeback, but the most Ichigo could do, given the situation. The sentiment was clear, at the very least.

"Hah." Grimmjow was laughing. "Need rescuing, eh? I wonder why I even brought you along in the first place."

"Where the fuck _were_ you, you stupid piece of shit?" Ichigo snarled, gathering his feet under him. He could barely take in a full breath, but even worse was Grimmjow; Ichigo wanted to hate him from the depths of his being but all he could do was feel relief. He couldn't understand the way he'd been saved, why Grimmjow would give a shit about him in the first place. The bastard probably didn't want to end up _bored_ without Ichigo to kick around; shallow motivations to the end.

"Oh, I felt him, on the other side of this place," Grimmjow was saying, not looking at Ichigo but gazing excitedly at their prey, who was writhing about on the ground below. Grimmjow had sliced off the end of the hollow's tail, and it was screaming angrily. "Didn't think you'd find him first. Big fucker, ain't he?" Grimmjow crouched beside him, eyes attentive. "Guess I know now how weak you really are."

"Only how weak you've _made me_," Ichigo returned.

Before he could say anything else, Grimmjow was bounding down from their perch, landing before their prey, his sword held casually against his shoulder.

"Well, hey there, fucker," he called. Ichigo immediately felt embarrassed, as though Grimmjow were displaying what a complete dipshit he was, arrogant and over-confident. For a spiteful moment, Ichigo hoped the other hollow kicked his ass, if only so that Grimmjow's ego felt the bruise.

He leapt after the other man, stumbling as he hit the ground; his ribs ached like there was a knife stabbed between them, and Ichigo knew he needed to be careful. But all the pain the world wouldn't stop him from matching Grimmjow, especially now that the stupid fucker was convinced of his weakness. Ichigo would prove him wrong if it killed him.

He marched up behind Grimmjow, and punched him soundly in the arrancar's lower back. "You stupid asshole! Stop getting in my way!"

"_Excuse_ me?" Grimmjow regarded him, bored and unthreatened.

"You said it yourself, I found him first. Quit stealing my kills and taking all the credit, fucking glory hog!"

"Heh, is that what you think?" Grimmjow spat on the ground, as though emphasizing his position. "Not a fucking chance. I saw how this thing was throwing you around, just like you were _letting_ it."

"And I don't need _you_ to save me!" Ichigo could feel fine tremors of anger shaking his shoulders, but he didn't care.

"Likewise, brat," the arrancar sneered, tilting his face so that he glared down at Ichigo. "You were a mistake to bring along; all you did yesterday was get in my way. I bet you're still waiting for a thanks on that, aren't you? Well, payback's fair—"

"Hey!" they both jerked towards their proper enemy; the hollow's boney face was twisted and enraged. "Don't fucking ignore me, you little shits!"

"Fuck off," Grimmjow snapped, before returning his attention to Ichigo. His grin was sharp and malicious, "I've got more important things to do, yeah?"

"Damn right, you stupid prick—"

Grimmjow poked a sharp finger into Ichigo's chest, "Now listen the fuck up, you little bastard: you trip me up one more time, and I really will kill you. You're living on borrowed time; maybe you just need a _reminder _of that, am I right?"

"Y'know, Grimmjow, I am so sick of this fucking routine of yours. You only push me around like this because you _know_ you'll win—" Ichigo's words drew a loud cackle from the other man, which only served as fuel for the bitterness clawing up Ichigo's stomach. He slapped Grimmjow's arm away from his body, "Because you _knew_ you couldn't beat me, unless you made me weak and helpless."

"Hey, I didn't do any of that, it was all Aizen. You can blame me for a lotta shit, but he's the one that sealed your sword."

"And you're just taking advantage of it, is that it?" Ichigo spat angrily at the arrancar's feet. "You've got less honor than even he does."

"Watch it, fucker—"

"No, Grimmjow, _you_ better watch it." Ichigo hadn't forgotten their quarry, huge and hungry beside them, and had seen the severed stump of its tail whipping behind Grimmjow. It streaked towards the arrancar, but Ichigo didn't bother to tip the other man off; knowing Grimmjow, he'd never even acknowledge the help.

"And you better not tell me what to do—" Grimmjow's words ended as the hollow's tail crashed into him, and he was sent sprawling. But he got back up in an instant, spluttering and indignant. "Now what the fuck?" He glared at the hollow, which matched his seething eyes. "Will you butt the fuck out? I'm busy."

"You cut my tail, bastard!" It snarled, "That _hurt_!"

"Yeah, and that's just the start; I'll get to you in a minute. And you—" he rounded on Ichigo, "Think that was funny, eh?"

Ichigo shrugged, "I warned you."

"Then that was the shittiest warning I ever heard!"

"Try this one, then." Ichigo saw the hollow's whip-tail snapping around for another pass, and slammed a leg into Grimmjow's feet, flipping him on his back. The tail skimmed over Grimmjow's fallen form, but it was annoying—having the creature interfere, especially when Ichigo was more in the mood to take Grimmjow down a peg himself. But some things couldn't be avoided; Ichigo dashed forwards and lopped off another segment of the winding body.

The hollow roared, its shortened tail spasming before erupting into a new, forked length. Ichigo leapt back, away from it, landing side-by-side to Grimmjow.

"Well, that's, um. That's different," Grimmjow said, sounding perplexed.

"Regeneration?"

"Whatever it is, it's gross. Don't let that thing do it again, you hear?"

Ichigo bristled. "Don't give me orders!"

"Then don't get in the way!"

The hollow was sneering at them both. "I'll kill you first," it said to Grimmjow, "You stole my lunch, you little brat. That shinigami was mine."

"No, that shinigami is _mine_. He'll always be mine."

"What sort of belonging do you not eat, then?"

"What's it matter to you?" Grimmjow sneered, teeth bared and white. "Other than a meal you won't be having."

"He was telling me all sorts of things," the answered. "Like how I can have _true_ power, if only I join you."

"He's nice," Grimmjow said. "He gave you the choice."

"I don't listen to the demands of tiny insects."

"They always said that, 'bout me," Grimmjow responded. "Always wondered how a little thing could be so goddamn powerful."

Ichigo was surprised to hear that; he'd always imagined Grimmjow as large as this being. His ego certainly matched the hollow's size. But he didn't particularly like being talked about as though he was a bartering chip, and streaked towards the hollow to leave a deep gash across its face. His sword stuck in the bone mask, and Ichigo was thrown aside as the hollow reared up in pain.

He landed, rolling, and Grimmjow followed through with Ichigo's initial advance, blasting a cero through its chest. Unbelievably, it wasn't enough to kill the creature; Ichigo saw its winding tail crashing towards him but his sword was still stuck in the thing's face. His chest protested angrily at the rough treatment, and Ichigo staggered to his feet—but then Grimmjow streaked in front of him, slashing through the hollow and amputating its tail a second time.

Ichigo felt grateful for a moment, but it was swiftly replaced by anger—goddammit, that was the second time the bastard had saved him. And by the wide smirk on Grimmjow's face, the arrancar wouldn't soon let him forget it.

"You should just sit this out, shinigami," Grimmjow smiled. "I can't beat this one and watch out for your ass at the same time."

"Then you suck," Ichigo huffed. He'd always done his best to protect others, but being on the receiving end left a bad taste in his mouth. "What, doing two things at once more than you can handle?"

"Doing _one_ thing seems to be kicking your ass—"

"Why don't you sit back and watch, if that's all you can manage?" Ichigo snapped, and rushed the hollow, bounding up the side of its massive body until he'd reached his sword. Its teeth snapped at him, but Ichigo's comparatively small size made it easy for him to snatch his sword and slash out one of the hollow's eyes. He imagined it was Grimmjow's face he was laying into instead, and punched the hollow's snouted nose soundly before it shook him off.

"What's that supposed to do, shinigami?" He heard the Espada's mocking voice behind him, "Annoy it?

Ichigo landed, ready to pound Grimmjow properly but saw the arrancar leap at their enemy and slice open the hollow's throat. Grimmjow was doused in a gout of black blood before he could get away—not like the asshole probably cared. Grimmjow wiped his eyes clear before shaking himself like a wet dog, and Ichigo was glad he wasn't within splattering distance.

The hollow gave a choking scream before it crumpled, unmoving. Grimmjow sauntered towards Ichigo, dripping in gore though his white teeth shone through it. "_That's_ how you fucking do it, shinigami."

"I thought you wanted this thing alive."

The Espada's grin faltered at its corners. "Fuck—"

"You dumbass!" Maybe it wasn't _completely_ dead, and Ichigo approached the creature's body cautiously.

"Well, shit," Grimmjow cursed, beside him, and kicked the hollow's head vindictively. It lolled to the side, only attached by a few strings of tendons. To call it dead would've been generous; maybe the creature could regenerate most injuries, but not this much. Ichigo felt a slight twinge of remorse—even if he'd wanted to destroy the hollow, he felt somewhat bad mutilating it in place of Grimmjow. It hadn't really done enough to deserve that, though his painful, cracked ribs begged to differ.

"This is all your fault," Grimmjow added in a growl.

Ichigo could feel his temper snap, "The fuck it is, asshole!"

"You wanna bet? If you hadn't kept getting in my way, this never would've happened!"

"I think it's the other way around," Ichigo huffed, tired and annoyed. The aches from his crushed chest emerged with force now that he didn't have adrenaline and anger to dull the pain. But their earlier fight seemed to have lost its fire, in the wake of cruel reality; Ichigo wouldn't say it aloud, but he was glad. His body hurt _everywhere_, and Grimmjow would easily be able to beat him as a result.

"This sucks," Grimmjow said, glaring at the broken hollow, as though through force of will he could revive it. He looked surprisingly petulant, a child who'd broken a new toy that couldn't easily be replaced. It wasn't like Grimmjow knew much of restraint, and for a moment, Ichigo felt strangely thankful that the arrancar treated him with slightly more care. He wouldn't fall as readily as this hollow had, but he knew deeply how chaotic Grimmjow could become once his bloodlust took over—maybe he'd never riled the arrancar to that point, yet, limited as he was. Ichigo liked to imagine he was still a decent challenge for the arrancar, but without Zangetsu, things seemed already predetermined.

He kicked the sand irritably, still not wanting to concede that fact. "What's your big plan now?" Ichigo muttered. They hadn't come out all his way to go home empty-handed.

"Che." Grimmjow grunted, and aimed a fresh kick at the corpse. He acted as pissed as Ichigo was, though he knew Grimmjow had separate reasons for it. "This thing wasn't even worth it if it couldn't regenerate that little scratch."

"That scratch wasn't _little_, moron. You nearly took its head off."

Grimmjow shot him a silver smile, "Impressed?"

"Not a chance."

"Liar." Grimmjow slicked a hand through his blood-wetted hair. "C'mon. We're gonna find something better. I wouldn't even've taken this back to Aizen; would've gotten laughed outta the damn place if I did."

Ichigo snorted; Grimmjow was one to be calling others liars with talk like that. Covering up for being an idiot—it was disturbing to Ichigo that he could realize the arrancar's posturing for what it was, just something to keep his own ego afloat. Ichigo imagined that he'd have boundless confidence as well, if he relied on self-delusion to get it.

Grimmjow fixed his bloodied sword back in its place on his hip, not bothering to clean it; Ichigo was annoyed on principle, even if the arrancar's sword-blade always looked like shit anyway. Why take things for granted? He treated Ichigo in the same careless manner, and Ichigo could feel his temper rising anew.

"Well?" Grimmjow glared at him, and Ichigo realized he'd been staring. "C'mon, dipshit." And he began stalking away, back rigid and angry.

"Where are we _going_, Grimmjow?"

"What's it matter to you, eh?" Grimmjow shot over his shoulder. "We're gonna find another, a better one this time. I ain't going back with nothing to show for all of this."

Ichigo sighed heavily; no, he didn't want to have all this time go to waste either, but unlike the stupid prick arrancar, Ichigo had actually come out of their current fight worse off. Physically, at least—even if it hadn't meant much, his shoulders felt lighter now that he'd unloaded half of the built-up insults Grimmjow'd been piling on him since the day Ichigo had arrived in this hellhole.

Grimmjow stopped, waiting for him. "And we can _definitely_ take something twice as strong as this little pipsqueak. I was watching back there; you're itching for another fight, yeah?"

Ichigo blinked; that almost sounded like a compliment. He knew he was wrong in thinking it as such, but Grimmjow's words were none the less surprising. Ichigo practically expected another mocking insult to cut him down; he'd had nothing less for as long as he could remember. A grudging acknowledgement of competency—against weak hollows, but still—was probably all that Grimmjow could manage without his ego getting in the way.

Ichigo jogged to catch up to the other man, and jostling his fresh injuries left him gasping. Grimmjow was pinning him with a considering glare; Ichigo snapped, "What?"

"Che, I feel another storm coming. We should wait it out here, where there's cover." Grimmjow glanced around, as if searching. Ichigo didn't feel any change in the still air, and it was suspicious, given Grimmjow's eagerness to set off not a moment ago.

"I ain't that bad off," Ichigo scowled. "I can travel, at least."

"Shut up, will you?" Grimmjow looked irritated. "And it ain't that. Not _everything_'s about you."

"Asshole." Ichigo turned away. _But isn't it? _He wanted to ask,_ Isn't it _always_ about me?_

He didn't want to admit how much he welcomed resting for a while. The persistent pain wore against his already thin nerves, and he didn't like Grimmjow looking out for him _again_. Not after the prick had saved his ass twice already.

They bedded down in a sheltered cave; it might've belonged to the hollow they killed, but it'd never be needing it again. Ichigo tried to sleep, but couldn't find a comfortable position, and his mind seemed too awake for his injured and exhausted body.

It bothered him, the way Grimmjow had jumped in when the hollow could've easily crushed him. All of Grimmjow's mocking insults were designed to make Ichigo feel weak and helpless, as though he couldn't do anything, let alone protect himself. Ichigo half expected the bastard to _let_ him get beaten, if only so that Grimmjow could taunt him with it later. But Grimmjow had leapt in to save him, as though the arrancar had _wanted_ to—he'd rescued Ichigo, and Ichigo hated being rescued. He hadn't asked for it.

He hadn't stopped resenting the prick for making him weak enough to _need_ the help. And Ichigo knew the arrancar would never admit what it was—he'd always pass the protectiveness off to possession, but it made him begin to wonder if that were true. He wondered if the other man hadn't captured him for anything else, and the leering gaze Grimmjow always looked him over with didn't help. It was creepy and made Ichigo's skin crawl. Grimmjow always behaved like an animal stalking him, and Ichigo didn't like putting things in a different context—he wasn't an idiot, and could pick signals up easily when they were as obvious as Grimmjow's were. But Ichigo was certain that if Grimmjow had wanted _that_ from him, he'd have taken it by now. The prick didn't know the meaning of restraint, as he'd demonstrated previously against their hollow enemy.

Ichigo ground his teeth irritably, and cracked one eye open to see Grimmjow stomp past the opening to their cave. Why the kindness? Letting Ichigo rest, protecting him—it didn't fit with what he knew of the other man. Ichigo wasn't sure if he liked the change or not.

* * *

Thank you to: Q and B, my faithful betas :)

Please let me know if you enjoy the story, I welcome all feedback!


	13. 13

And here is the next part! Thanks to everyone for reading. I really appreciate your kind reviews and words 3

Thanks to my beta readers, Q and B.

* * *

Ichigo awoke, groaning; his body ached and his chest burned as though he'd been in a punching match with Tatsuki. He was on his side, cold and stiff, the hard floor of the bare cave seeming twice as bad as when he'd fallen asleep. Ichigo couldn't imagine he'd been out that long, not for how tired he still was.

"Not totally dead, yeah?" It was Grimmjow's voice.

"Go away," he gasped. It was the most he could do. Every breath was painful.

"Get up."

Ichigo didn't move, until Grimmjow's hands were pushing at his shoulders. He shoved Ichigo so he was flat on his back, stifling a whimper.

"You that bad off? Shit." Grimmjow's hands were back, on Ichigo's wounded chest as he undid the fastenings of his uniform.

Ichigo batted the fingers away, rising up on his elbows. "Fuck off, what d'you want?"

"Heh," Grimmjow was snickering. "I saw the way that thing was batting you around; your ribs're all jacked up. Shoulda done this earlier."

"Then why didn't you?" Ichigo snarled, irritated. He wasn't about to deal with Grimmjow on top of a crushed chest, and the creature from before _had_ broken his bones, holding him tightly and squeezing. Ichigo had felt his ribs crack, but hadn't thought it'd be _this_ bad.

"I was hoping you'd be more of a trooper, yeah?" Grimmjow smirked. He reached for Ichigo's jacket but Ichigo beat him to it, releasing the fastenings himself. If Grimmjow wanted to bind his ribs, Ichigo wasn't going to be an invalid about it.

"Why're you doing this?" he mumbled, as Grimmjow looped a length of cloth around his torso. His hands were cool and light against Ichigo's skin.

"Guess I don't wanna lug your scrawny ass the whole way, huh?"

Ichigo felt slightly disconcerted; he had woken up not a moment ago, and now Grimmjow was attending to him like Ichigo was a kitten that needed a splinted leg. The arrancar moved gingerly and cautiously, and he didn't meet Ichigo's eyes.

Grimmjow had looped the wrappings several times around his chest and began tightening each one, painfully. "Ouch, you fuckhead," Ichigo snapped. "That hurts."

"Stop whining, it's your own damn fault. I'll leave you behind if you keep it up."

Ichigo glared at him from inches away. "You wouldn't for a second, after all this. I'm not stupid."

"Aw, and here I thought you'd _want_ me to let you go." Grimmjow's smile was amused. "How times change, eh, shinigami?"

"Fuck you!" Ichigo said it angrily, but he didn't feel it. He knew he wouldn't be getting far with the way his chest ached, but it sucked that the person binding his injuries was _Grimmjow_.

They were silent for a long moment, Grimmjow attending to his wounds and Ichigo unable to think of anything to say. In general, Ichigo didn't like to be touched, particularly not by the arrancar, since it usually ended painfully. Not that he couldn't handle that; he could, and would prefer it over what he had now—Grimmjow being careful, and leaving Ichigo with his thoughts as they turned against him. He wanted to concentrate on anything else than the light touches, and how close they were to each other.

"Did you find another hollow?" Ichigo asked, searching for anything to interrupt the quiet.

"Huh?" Grimmjow raised his eyes, but shrugged. "Yeah. Probably, I can feel something out there."

"How far?"

"Che, whining already, what a surprise—"

"I am _not_," Ichigo scowled, but it only provoked another of Grimmjow's cocky smirks. There was blood matting the arrancar's wild hair, and it flopped stiffly in unfamiliar angles. "I just want to know if it'll be as big as that last one."

"You really are worried, aren't you? Scared of getting squished like a little bug?"

"More like afraid of getting left to fend on my own again, with a worthless sword."

"And even more worthless excuses," Grimmjow snorted.

"Oh, that is fucking _it_!" Ichigo snarled, sudden anger setting every nerve on fire. He twisted away from Grimmjow's hands before pouncing, knocking the other man over. Ichigo managed to get two solid hits in across Grimmjow's cheek, making him splutter in surprise before a hard fist knifed into Ichigo's diaphragm. He gagged, vision graying for a moment as Grimmjow slammed him on his back.

Ichigo swallowed past the taste of blood in his throat, choking off a pained whine. He hadn't really expected that to work, but there was only so much of Grimmjow's taunting he was willing to take. Ichigo still had _some_ principles left.

Grimmjow had one hand pressed solidly over his chest, and was snickering. "You never know when to quit, do you?"

"Would you be any different?" The roof of the cave spun lazily in Ichigo's blurry vision.

"I'd never be stupid enough to get myself in your position, so I guess I'll never know."

Ichigo remained flat on his back, arms flopped uselessly on either side and allowed the arrancar to finish bandaging his chest without resistance. The cave had a strange smell Ichigo hadn't noticed earlier: dust and age, sour like decay. He realized it was the stench of hollows, stale like an open grave. The arrancar all felt different from that, more alive—a welcome change that came along with the extra power the Hougyoku gave them. Something more familiar, but Ichigo knew he'd be smarter to ignore that; he needed to remember what Grimmjow was at his core, which was a monster, dead and empty.

"Hey, Grimmjow," he started, and Grimmjow's eyes flicked to his face. "What were you like? Before, I mean. As a hollow."

Grimmjow made a derisive sound. "What's it matter?"

"I'm just asking." Ichigo swallowed. "The hollow we killed, it said you were tiny."

"That's a fucking lie!" Grimmjow glared at him. "And size ain't ever a matter of strength." He smiled at Ichigo, full of teeth. It reminded Ichigo of the hollow's giant, toothy grimace. "You should know that, little thing that you are."

"Go to hell!"

"Already there, brat," Grimmjow simpered. "And here I've taken you with me."

Ichigo didn't say anything, only glaring in return. He didn't like having Grimmjow so close and so disturbingly careful. It was strange and not what he was used to; Ichigo felt as if he moved or spoke it would dispel whatever calm sense they had between them. Ichigo worried that he enjoyed it; it felt like a betrayal. He should always hate Grimmjow, eternally and without reservation.

Ichigo hated that he couldn't.

Grimmjow murmured, after a moment, "You don't get anywhere in this world unless you seek out strength. I could age until I was the same as that thing but I got there twice as fast bowing to Aizen. Go ahead and give me whatever bitchy smile you wanna, but I'll take anything over a life crawling these sands hoping to survive."

"I know you don't give a shit about Aizen," Ichigo responded. "So why'd you go after the things he wants?"

He hoped Grimmjow would realize he was talking about the hollow they'd killed, and he did, giving Ichigo a smug grin. "Because it's fun. Because I love a good fight, fuck, what else is there? And I gotta get Aizen-_sama_ back on my good terms, y'know what I mean?"

"Am I really that bothersome?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow.

"He's already after me to be nicer to ya. I can't bring you back all busted up; he'll get on my ass."

Ichigo scowled, looking at the bare stone beside his hands; anywhere but at Grimmjow. This entire routine seemed too strange for what he was used to with the arrancar. "I'm surprised you're not punching me in my broken ribs."

It made Grimmjow snicker. "Think of it this way: I don't want you getting too badly busted up, cause then I'll have to wait for you to get better. Neliel can't do shit for broken ribs; she's only useful for open wounds, if that. You go around with these unbound, and I gotta two-week wait on my hands."

"It always comes back to a fight with you, doesn't it?"

"How else should it be?"

Ichigo was at a loss; how else should it have been? He wasn't even sure what he wanted. He wanted _away_, to be sure—from Grimmjow's possessive glances, until he was simply his own person again. He remembered what that was like, and worried that one day he'd forget. He wondered what it would be like to be away from the arrancar's constant, unignorable presence, after they'd been together in such close quarters for so long.

"You're always so pretty when you're in pain," Grimmjow said, drawing a hand across Ichigo's bandaged side. "But I like it better when I'm the one breaking you."

"I hate you," Ichigo snapped immediately.

Grimmjow stuck his face right up into Ichigo's, sneering and the blue markings at his eyes creased from his smile. "I fucking hate you too. Now get your ass up so I don't got another reason to hate you."

Ichigo didn't like obeying, even when it made sense. Grimmjow had wounds from his fight with the hollow, but they were mostly superficial; small cuts and lacerations covering his exposed skin. It was what the stupid fucker got for walking around without a shirt on, in Ichigo's mind.

Ichigo realized he was staring a little too hard at the wounds on Grimmjow's chest— Grimmjow liked to parade himself about and it was always a distraction. _Why, though?_ Ichigo felt ashamed for a moment, looking and wanting him; he would've rather continued with unbridled hatred for as long as he could. Anything less was too close to giving in, but Grimmjow's naked abdomen was perfect: lean and narrow, and the way his muscles in his hips tapered beyond his hakama's waistband made Ichigo wonder what lay beneath. He was annoyed at himself for even considering such things, and blamed Grimmjow entirely.

Ichigo didn't want to be caught staring and stood, wrapping his tattered uniform back around and fastening it down the front. The white cloth became more worn by the day and he wondered what would happen when he finally needed a replacement.

He joined Grimmjow at the entrance to their sheltered cave; the night sands didn't look any different from before. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, "What happened to the storm?"

"Che, it veered off and never hit. Lucky."

"Lucky. Right." Ichigo had thought the prick was just using that as an excuse before. Grimmjow cared enough to let him rest, but was still too stubborn to admit it. It told Ichigo more than he wanted to know—the arrancar, despite all appearances, actually _did_ give two shits about him, whether he'd own up to it or not. Ichigo wasn't sure whether he was pleased or terrified.

It took them only a fast hour's traveling to find their second target—Ichigo had completely lost track of time, sleeping mid-day, when day looked like night in the first place—but he was eager and awake for a fight when they reached the adjucas-hollow. It wasn't as large as the previous one, and had more arms than it needed. Ichigo was busy just keeping out of its many-limbed reach, and led it on a good chase to distract it, while Grimmjow attacked from behind. The other man didn't leave Ichigo on his own this time.

As fast as he was, Ichigo's tight chest restricted his movements enough that the hollow caught him once with a glancing blow that sent him sprawling. He would've been worried, but Grimmjow had steadily been hacking away at the thing, and went into a frenzy once its attention was diverted to Ichigo's crumpled form. Ichigo was worried the arrancar would end up destroying this hollow as well, leaving them with nothing again, but then he was blinded by a flash of light so intense he could almost feel its heat on his skin.

When Ichigo got to his feet, the hollow was gone; just Grimmjow standing in its former position, grinning triumphantly. Something about his movements made Ichigo expectant, his heart hammering in his chest, and not from the fight—

"Not bad for a cripple, shinigami," Grimmjow smiled. "Looks like we gotta real nice one."

Grimmjow said it like they'd both reeled in a hundred-pound fish after a day on a lake. The arrancar moseyed up alongside him, happier than Ichigo had seen him in weeks.

"What'd you do?" Ichigo hadn't seen whatever Grimmjow used to capture the hollow—but he was tossing a tiny, square box in his hand casually. Ichigo imagined it contained the other creature, somehow.

"I kicked its ass, what else? Didn't you see?" Grimmjow and sounded offended. "You oughta pay more attention."

"So you can show off? Please," Ichigo squared his shoulders in annoyance, not liking how much he _wanted_ to pay attention to Grimmjow, now. "I get more of your fucking ego than I need already. Let's just go."

He began marching back in the direction he imagined Las Noches lay, thoroughly disoriented but not about to admit it. Grimmjow fell into step beside him, still smiling widely. Ichigo could smell him. He imagined he stank as well; three days of gritty sand, blood, and sweat clinging like a second skin. Ichigo thought longingly of a hot bath, to wash it all away and clear his mind.

"Nice job distracting that thing," Grimmjow said, casually. Like they were friends; when had that happened?

Why didn't Ichigo want it to stop? "Is that all I am, a distraction? Asshole."

"Oh, c'mon, like you're gonna do much all banged up like you are," Grimmjow answered, his voice playful. He shoved his shoulder against Ichigo's, "At least you're useful."

"If that's a compliment, it's a really shitty one." Ichigo's voice and words were bitter, but he didn't feel it, not entirely. He still resented the arrancar, but his hold on his anger was slipping, replaced by an easy, competitive challenge. A rival rather than an enemy; Ichigo knew he was losing his grip if he saw things that way, but it'd been building for a while. A strange sense of companionship that he wondered if Grimmjow shared, and it worried Ichigo that he _wanted_ the arrancar to feel the same way—as if Grimmjow had any understanding of feeling the way Ichigo did.

He glanced at the other man; Grimmjow had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hakama, his shoulders slouching as they walked, endlessly, back the way they'd come. Ichigo couldn't stop staring from the corner of his eye, something stirring within him, and he hated that out of all the times in his life he felt attracted to another person, it had to be Grimmjow.

Out of impulse and as though he couldn't even control himself, Ichigo's hand slid out and under the arrancar's loose jacket, touching the newly branded mark on his lower back. Grimmjow stiffened but didn't pull away, his head turning slightly in Ichigo's direction.

"I liked the six better," Ichigo said, responding to the unasked question.

"Che, that's cause you could actually stand a chance against me then," Grimmjow snapped. His weight shifted back, against Ichigo's hand, and he didn't bother to remove it.

"Whatever, fuckhead. You're no stronger than you were before, I'll prove it eventually. And that's not the reason, so stop congratulating yourself."

"Then what?"

Ichigo shrugged and let his hand fall back to his side. It felt strange to keep it in place, though he wanted to; Grimmjow's skin was smooth and the movements of his muscles as they walked were relaxing and repetitive. Ichigo wanted to touch the hole in his stomach, such a gaping, empty wound seemed abnormal and interesting. He wondered what it would feel like and if Grimmjow would notice, if it was sensitive like a newly-given scar.

"Just the way it looked, I guess. It suited you better. I guess the four seems too much like Ulquiorra."

"Hah, and we'd hate to think'a him now, wouldn't we?" Grimmjow laughed.

Ichigo fought a longing to loop his arm around Grimmjow's waist as they walked together, if only to feel the warmth of another person. The desert was cold and there were knots forming between his shoulder blades, in the spaces between his ribs. He hated the vulnerable sense he had, with his feelings at the surface, as though they were a new wound as well. Better to bury them, and especially before the arrancar took notice and rubbed Ichigo's face in it. He knew the way Grimmjow's brain worked; any concession at all from hatred to whatever was left over would be a weakness in the arrancar's mind. Ichigo knew he was thinking too hard and too obviously, and the silence seemed oppressive.

"How did it work?" Ichigo started, not really sure where their conversation was going. It wasn't like them to actually _have_ conversation. "When you got a new number, did Aizen burn it off of you?"

"S'not how it works, it's not anything. The number. It's just _there_, as soon as Aizen gives it to you."

"Oh." They were quiet again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. "Did you get more power, then? To equal the rank; I know you're strong, Grimmjow, but you weren't Ulquiorra's strength when I fought you."

"You trying to start something, fucker?" Grimmjow snarled, taking Ichigo's words as a challenge. His lips curled before his eyes turned back to the sandy horizon. "Hmph. It's just how Aizen works. He knows better than to ditch those of us still around, he wouldn't have anyone left. That's how Nel got her place back, see?"

Ichigo nodded but didn't say anything in return.

Grimmjow continued, "He knows he's wasted nearly everybody to get to where we are now. That's why we're out here catching new recruits."

Ichigo found it a strange way of looking at recruiting, when you were actively defeating and abducting those who would be indoctrinated. But it made a sort of sense, in the world of hollows where strength and power was all that mattered. He'd learned enough from being their captive to know that pre-arrancar hollows were frightened, terrified beings, constantly seeking those stronger than themselves in order to grow.

Grimmjow seemed similar, when Ichigo factored him into the equation, as though the blue-haired Espada was still driven by forces that dictated dominance and antagonism in order to survive. Ichigo wondered if they would ever grow beyond that, if Grimmjow could ever see him as a person rather than an opponent.

"Aizen knows he doesn't have a lot left after the war. Better to reward those still living than leave us as we were. He'd be starting up from ground zero, otherwise," Grimmjow offered, his shoulders still hunched. He shrugged and Ichigo imagined the way his muscles would feel against his hand, had he still held it against Grimmjow's back.

"Are you hoping to be strong as Stark one day?" Ichigo asked, not really knowing why. He simply didn't want the easy exchange they had to end.

"I _am_ strong as that lazy fucker, don't doubt it, you prick," Grimmjow snapped. "Strong as Ulquiorra. I could take him now, even if he's ranked second. Aizen and all of 'em, they don't look at it the same way—I could beat everyone of 'em, but we'd both die, and they just ain't ready for that."

"That's because that's how winning _works_," Ichigo scoffed. "It's not winning if you die at the same time."

"Whatever, that's what you think," Grimmjow growled. "Doesn't mean I wouldn't take 'em down. I'd call that a win in my mind."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, knowing the other man wouldn't see it, but still did so for his own consolation. Grimmjow was simply too self-conscious of his own power to ever admit he wasn't as strong as the others. And maybe he _would_ win against Stark if both of them fought until they died; the same way as Grimmjow had lost against Ichigo but still couldn't admit defeat.

He remembered Grimmjow, panting and bleeding, still holding his sword proudly and demanding Ichigo continue to fight him—Ichigo hadn't had any patience for Grimmjow's stubborn routine then, and still found it terribly irritating.

He hadn't wanted to kill Grimmjow then, but he won because he simply wanted to more than the arrancar had. If that were possible when it came to Grimmjow—but Ichigo had _needed_ to beat the Espada, because winning meant saving Inoue. When Grimmjow had fallen and Ichigo took his hand, lowering him to the ground, it was because he was unwilling to throw such a strong opponent's life away needlessly. Ichigo realized that he still didn't want Grimmjow to die, even though he hated the arrancar.

That was the truth—he still hated Grimmjow and held the cinder of it deep inside himself. Ichigo could want the arrancar as deeply as he did, but he'd never let that go. He'd never escape this place if he allowed his base instincts to run wild, and he recognized this attraction as such. Knowing that was the truth didn't stop it from existing, no matter how much Ichigo wished that was possible.

"C'mon," Grimmjow said, shifting to his sonido speed, and Ichigo jumped to match him. "I don't feel like walking the whole way. This fucker's getting impatient, anyway."

Grimmjow nodded to the small cube in his hand.

"Can it escape from that?"

"Nah, only Espada could," Grimmjow's tone didn't falter, even traveling at the speeds they were. The desert was only a white blur around them. "But I don't feel like having a heart-to-heart with you in the time between now and Las Noches, dumbass."

Ichigo glared at the other man, seeing his white teeth flashing as they jumped across the sands. He struggled to keep up and was annoyed by it. Irritated as well by Grimmjow's evasiveness; Ichigo had enjoyed simply talking with the other man with less at stake than they normally held.

Maybe their conversation was getting a little too functional. That Ichigo wanted them to remain that way was more worrisome.

* * *

I realize this relationship is moving soooooo slooooooowly, but at least Ichigo's got enough head on his shoulders to start taking a clue, amirite?


	14. 14

Here is the latest chapter, thank you to all who have reviewed and all who have read :D Please consider reviewing, I always appreciate it!

* * *

Once they reached Las Noches, Grimmjow was gone—to report to Aizen, undoubtedly. He wouldn't keep such a prize as the hollow they'd captured hidden for very long. It seemed to Ichigo that Grimmjow walked a very fine line with his master, constantly overstepping his boundaries, and then proving himself in order to make up for it. Though Nel assured him Aizen was a kind, generous keeper, Ichigo knew he'd never had to appease the upper-ranks in all his time as a substitute shinigami. They demanded that he did his duty, nothing more—Ichigo wasn't required to devote himself to them like a servant.

He found his room and soaked in a bath for an hour or two, letting his crushed chest and ribs leech their pain into the hot water. It was relaxing, and more helpful than anything Grimmjow had given him. He didn't attempt redressing the wound; it was too much of a bother on his own, with a stiff and painful torso. His arms didn't move as freely and it made things impossible.

Nel found him not long after, bounding with energy as always, excited to hear of his adventures. Ichigo's strained voice betrayed him, the product of his tight abdomen, and Nel immediately became maternal. It was a strange dichotomy, but not one he particularly resented. As selfish as it was, Ichigo liked having someone who cared about him, even if only in a friendly way.

"Hm, just like Grimmjow to let you get yourself hurt when he's around," she muttered in irritation as she re-bandaged his wounds. She'd bodily removed his cloak-like top and used fresh dressings to re-tie his chest. She did it better, and with more care, than Grimmjow had.

"Wasn't his fault," Ichigo murmured.

"Don't make excuses for him!" She cuffed the back of his head lightly. "He's a moron. Only cares about himself, despite what he says."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Nel said, and looked away, concentrating on her task. She drew the wrappings taut, without any slack to spare, and Ichigo's lungs felt constrained. He knew it was for his own good; they would heal more readily. "There, how's that feel?"

"Tight," Ichigo managed.

Nel only smiled, "Then I did it right, didn't I?" She hugged his shoulders with half her normal enthusiasm, and it made Ichigo feel strangely valued, that she cared enough to be gentle. "I can get you something for the pain. I'm so sorry I can't do anything more for it than this."

"Don't worry about it," Ichigo reassured her, and his smile was genuine.

It was nice, having her as a counter-balance to all of the harshness in Hueco Mundo. Ichigo wondered, not for the first time, how she'd survived to become tercera Espada.

"Grimmjow seems mighty proud of what you brought back from the desert," she said. They sat in Nel's room, on a featureless couch, but the company made it feel welcoming. "Did you have fun?"

"I guess. It was just good to get out of this place, I suppose." Ichigo did up the fastenings on his uniform, though his chest ached with the dull, comforting tightness the bindings provided. "I don't hate it, but a change of pace is good."

Nel sighed as if she completely agreed. "I never really liked it here. It's too much of the same. But it's what Aizen wants, so whatever." She looked at him conspiratorially, returning to her original subject. "The two of you didn't kill each other; that's surprising."

"I didn't have much of a choice," Ichigo snorted. "My sword's useless."

"Would you have tried, if you had the chance?"

"In a heartbeat." Ichigo crossed his arms sourly. He leaned back heavily in his seat and glared at the far wall, imagining it was the back of Grimmjow's head and that he could somehow bore a hole through it with his mind alone. It would've been easier, to turn things back to just the fight they used to have, before Ichigo's traitorous thoughts had contaminated everything.

Nel flicked his temple and Ichigo started, turning his glare on her instead. She was smiling impishly, "I don't believe you!"

"Che, you can believe what you want." He chewed his lip in annoyance; even if he did want the stupid prick, he wasn't about to tell Nel. It wouldn't be a secret for long if he did. "That asshole pisses me off," Ichigo muttered, and he wasn't sure what irritated him more, the fucker's smug leer, or the way he managed to make such a thing so attractive.

Nel made an exasperated sigh, as if giving up. Ichigo was grateful. He knew she had his best interests at heart, but couldn't shake the dire notion that if he admitted to liking the bastard, Nel would ensure they both behaved like it. Ichigo wasn't sure if he was ready for anything to happen in the first place; being thrust into it with Nel's characteristic wild abandon was twice as mortifying. Ichigo felt his face heat at the idea, and he tried to ignore it.

Nel didn't let the silence between them last. "They say whatever Grimmjow brought back is pretty big. Who's he strong as?"

"Very strong," Ichigo agreed with a nod of his head. It might be Espada strength, once Aizen used the Hougyoku on it. "I can't really say for certain. When will Aizen do the transformation?"

"He never waits long, especially now." She sighed. "I want to get out, to find more. I know it'd make him just as happy."

"Jealous?"

"I'd have to be pretty desperate to be jealous of Grimmjow," she smiled as though he'd made a joke, even if Ichigo's question was sincere.

"Grimmjow doesn't think much of your new arrancar—"

"Pfft, I'm tired of people saying that about Zulu," she huffed. "She just had a rough transition, it happens. They just don't like that I brought one back first!"

"So she remembered her name?"

Nel nodded to a corner and upon looking, Ichigo saw a girl hiding behind a chair; she watched him with a lamp-like gaze and had most likely been there the entire time. Her eyes reminded Ichigo of an underwater fish, one that rarely saw natural light: large and hugely dilated.

"Zulureatha Guixe," Nel said, though Ichigo was sure he wouldn't get the pronunciation right if he tried. "She remembered not long after."

Nel made a motion and the girl wandered out; she had the dizzy, unstable gait of a foal that'd just learned its feet. But she came readily, as though Nel were a beacon. The girl was dressed in a white arrancar uniform, with a pleated, knee-length skirt. Her eyes remained on Ichigo as she moved, like he was something new and unique.

"He smells nice," she said, her voice as empty as Ulquiorra's. Abruptly, she took his hand, and her skin was clammy.

"This is Ichigo," Nel said, undeterred.

"I like him." Her fingers were passing over and over Ichigo's palm, cold. He could see her teeth; rows upon rows of them in her mouth like tiny needles. Ichigo noticed her hollow mask was similar, thin spines circling her collarbone like a necklace. She raised his hand in hers, "I want a taste."

Ichigo immediately felt alarmed, but what was he going to do? Push away a little girl? It would be like knocking over one of his sisters.

Nel made the decision for him, brushing the child's hand away, "He's a friend. You know how to treat friends."

Zulu—that was her name—nodded, but her stare didn't leave Ichigo, and he

began to blush uncomfortably.

"What're Dondo and Pesche up to?" Nel grasped both the girl's hands and beamed towards her. No one could refuse that look, Ichigo included. Zulu faced her for the first time. "Why don't you go find them?"

The purple-haired girl nodded once before leaving with the same unsteady, weaving stumble that she'd approached them with earlier. Nel watched her go, seemingly unperturbed by her behavior. "I think the Great Desert Bros miss having a little companion," she said, wistfully. "It's nice having her around."

"Is she…okay?" It seemed like the obvious question.

"Now don't you go being like the others." Nel turned swiftly in her seat, tapping one finger against the tip of Ichigo's nose, and his eyes crossed trying to follow it. "She'll be great, in time. Aizen likes her. Her power is like his."

Ichigo wasn't sure what that meant, and didn't know if he wanted to ask. The way she'd stared at him, mesmerized, reminded Ichigo of what the hollow in the desert had said, of how their kind was instinctively drawn to the shinigami. Ichigo wondered if the opposite were true, and if he could blame it for his infuriating attraction to Grimmjow.

He wasn't about to ask Nel; the subject would be too revealing, and she already seemed to suspect something. Ichigo returned to his room, mind caught up with too many useless things, especially where they concerned Grimmjow. He wondered if maybe it was something else, something the arrancar or Espada did to their fraccion to _make_ them follow. Ichigo would've taken that as a relief. Maybe he should've asked Nel about that; Ichigo was really just hoping for someone else to tell him he was insane in wanting anything from Grimmjow. Then he would've been able to stop, Ichigo was sure of it. He couldn't quit thinking about it, with no one else to dissuade him.

He flopped into bed, entire body in pain from his damaged ribs, and he didn't bother taking off his clothes. Nel could've helped him but if it required a spell or potion from Aizen, Ichigo simply wasn't interested. Better to take the agonizing reality than an illusion.

Ichigo didn't sleep, but drifted in and out of a continuous doze. His dreams shifted as he woke and slept; they were of the world in Hueco Mundo and the one he'd left before—people he missed; he wished he could speak to them, through his dreams and his memories of dreams. Grimmjow appeared like an illusory beacon in every one of them, and Ichigo went to him instinctively, not knowing why, but all things made sense in his half-conscious mind.

He came awake abruptly as light spilled in from the doorway. Ichigo could tell in a moment it was Grimmjow, from the shape of his body and the unruly mess of hair, and it worried him, such instant familiarity. His heart stuttered excitedly, and Ichigo hated himself.

"Fuck, d'you ever know how to sleep!"

Grimmjow strode into the room and Ichigo's muscles tensed, though he didn't rise. It was _only_ Grimmjow, and despite everything that Ichigo thought—which was a lot—unless the other man gave a provocation, nothing was likely to happen.

Nothing like he wanted. Maybe Grimmjow came for a fight, but Ichigo wasn't about to grant him even that, not with his body aching like it was.

Grimmjow stood over his bed, eyeing Ichigo's reclined form before sinking down to rest with his back against the low rise at the foot of the bed. "You humans're fucking lazy."

"The curse of the living," Ichigo mumbled. He could feel the words rumble out of his pained chest. It seemed to snap him around, and he glared at the back Grimmjow's head, not caring whether or not the other man could feel it. "It's your fault anyway, carrying me along on your wild goose chase."

Grimmjow made a huffing sound, flopping the back of his head against Ichigo's mattress. "Fuck. I'm bored. Get up, I wanna fight."

"Go _away_," Ichigo groused. Grimmjow made an indistinct _hmph_, unmoving from his current position.

His hair was splayed against Ichigo's sheets, and he reached for it. It was surprisingly soft, and Grimmjow made a quiet sound as he leaned into the touch like an affectionate cat. Ichigo realized the comparison was too apt.

"This is a good color," he murmured, and Grimmjow gave an indistinguishable reply. It was intimate, touching him this way. The arrancar's skin was warm under his fingers and he was reluctant to let go. "Grimmjow."

Grimmjow said nothing, rolling his shoulders as Ichigo massaged his scalp. He looked very young from this perspective, with his mask hidden on the other side of his face and no anger or violence twisting his features.

"How long are you intending to keep me here?"

"As long as it takes," Grimmjow said.

"Takes for what?"

Grimmjow shrugged, as if even he didn't know. "Long's it takes to make you realize I fucking beat you." His eyes flicked to Ichigo's; they were shining with a challenge. "You still think you're better'n me, even after all this. I'll show you. Just you fucking wait."

"Do you really need to keep me here for _that_?"

"Where else? Fuck, what're you gonna do, play with the other shinigami? You know they'll only make you bored. You belong here."

"Even if I'm unhappy?"

"_Especially_ if you're unhappy." Grimmjow's teeth flashed as he said it.

Ichigo didn't move his hand, still threaded in Grimmjow's thick, blue hair. It was surprising to have such a bright shade feel so natural and soft. "Why?"

Grimmjow shifted, shoulders moving against the foot of the futon. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he had no malicious reason—nothing to keep Ichigo, other than his own interest in beating an opponent. It was an easy excuse.

Ichigo didn't believe it for a minute. He'd realized, in the desert and with Grimmjow—maybe even before then—he knew he wanted Grimmjow. Deeply and instinctively; he'd tried to suppress it and the feeling just came back all the worse.

Ichigo hated that he couldn't resist it. But he found, in that moment, he simply didn't care.

He swung his feet off the bed, around the other man's head and onto the floor. He'd been half-sleeping for several hours, and suddenly rising made vertigo buzz behind his eyelids. Grimmjow watched him from where he sat, as Ichigo stood before dropping to his knees; they faced each other, and Ichigo kneeled across Grimmjow's legs until they were inches apart.

"What the fuck's this—" Grimmjow started before Ichigo cupped the side of his face in his hand and leaned forward. He pressed their lips together, and felt Grimmjow's slight intake of breath—the tensing of his face and neck and shoulders, all the way down to his stomach, where Ichigo's legs were spread across his hips. Ichigo pushed in, one hand against the back of Grimmjow's head as Ichigo opened him up with the tip of his tongue. Grimmjow was like nothing, a mannequin under him until Ichigo slipped inside, his tongue moving against the arrancar's as he coaxed out a response.

Then there were hands against his chest, on either side of his ribcage as Grimmjow held him, pressing into Ichigo's mouth; he could feel Grimmjow's nails digging into his skin.

"What're y'doing?" Grimmjow said, in a voice that made things tighten and tremble inside Ichigo. He didn't know _what_, exactly, he was doing; he couldn't give a good explanation, so he didn't give one at all and continued to take the other man's mouth. Grimmjow made a small sound as their lips parted, but Ichigo wouldn't let the absence last, and wrapped his arm around the arrancar's shoulders, drawing them together with a hand against Grimmjow's neck.

Ichigo's cock was so hard, and he let the other man feel it, sinking down against the Espada with the full weight of his body—he moaned slightly, a murmur into Grimmjow's mouth.

Then the arrancar surged against him. Ichigo found himself very abruptly on his back, staring at the ceiling while Grimmjow jerked away. Ichigo's ribs protested angrily, bruised and abused, aching from the rough treatment.

"What the fuck, you stupid piece of shit?" Grimmjow hissed, pacing tight circles around the room.

"What's the fucking problem?" Ichigo snapped, edging himself up on his elbows.

"What's _your_ fucking problem?" Grimmjow snarled, stabbing a finger at him.

"I don't _have_ a fucking problem, okay? I thought you'd be into it." Ichigo got to his feet. "It's just that—shit, Grimmjow, you've only been nosing around me for as long as I've been here!"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" Grimmjow huffed, hands on his hips. He spun, abruptly, towards the door.

Ichigo used a flash-step to put himself between them, slamming the door with one hand as Grimmjow tried to open it. The arrancar looked enraged.

"Don't act like there's nothing there," Ichigo hissed. "I _see_ the way you look at me. Why did you keep me, Grimmjow? Just to rub it in? And for what? Fuck, just _why_?"

Grimmjow's nostrils were flaring; he looked pissed as hell and unable to form words. His head shook slightly, side-to-side, before he said, "And now you got it into your head that this's why I kept you, eh? Think you can use it against me, is that right?"

He punched Ichigo suddenly, in his chest against his breastbone. It knocked the air out, broken ribs screaming; Ichigo coughed and stumbled, gasping air back into his lungs.

Grimmjow regarded him as though Ichigo was disgusting. "Che, this your idea of payback, brat? Like I'll let you go if you just give yourself up? Fat chance."

"What the fuck're you talking about?" Ichigo said with the remaining air he had.

"I see your game, yeah?" Grimmjow was sneering. "This's fun, ain't it? You know you can't win in a fight, huh, so now it's flesh? Piss off!"

Grimmjow jerked the door open, striding out and down the corridor.

Ichigo watched him go, his skin burning with humiliated rejection. He hated that he'd left himself open for it, but what the fuck? It wasn't like Ichigo was stupid; he could read the signs people presented him with, and Grimmjow's had been flashing in brilliant neon for the past several weeks that he _wanted_ Ichigo. And not just in the possessive way the arrancar put everything into—Grimmjow wanted to fuck him, and Ichigo knew it. Which was why he'd done something about it—against his own nature—and now was paying for it: because Grimmjow had to be an absolute prick at every turn; even when he laid down the rules, Ichigo wasn't allowed to play by them.

_Shit_. Ichigo clenched his jaw, driving all of his unspent arousal out of his mind as though through force of will he could ignore it. He shut the door and leaned against it, his ribs on fire from the punch Grimmjow had thrown at him. That pain was the arrancar prick's fault in the first place; he could've at least made Ichigo's recovery worthwhile, though Ichigo realized now how impossible that was. Now he didn't just feel physically miserable, he also felt like a foolish idiot.

Grimmjow. _Fuck him_, Ichigo's mind wanted to say, very readily and very justifiably. The Espada had all but claimed him for his own—Grimmjow would say that he had, that Ichigo _belonged_ to him.

_In every way except the most obvious_, Ichigo thought. And how disgusting was that? Ichigo ignored the part of himself that was pure base desire; that wanted Grimmjow just as a relief for all of the pent-up emotions the arrancar created in him. Ichigo didn't like laying things out only for them to be rejected; it made him feel pathetic, as though Grimmjow truly had no use for him.

He stumbled and fell heavily on his bed, his chest protesting even that.

Fuck. He wanted Grimmjow. He wanted him badly. _That_ was no longer a secret, and Ichigo had no one to blame but himself. He hated the other man for creating this impossible imbalance between them—and Ichigo hated himself now, for giving Grimmjow just that much more to mock him with. The arrancar liked lording his unfair advantage, and Ichigo was just itching to rectify the imbalance, but here he'd gone and given Grimmjow another reason to find him weak.

It was deeply painful that Grimmjow didn't want him in return. How could the arrancar see him as only an opponent, especially when he was so possessive all the time? Ichigo couldn't understand it, and realized he had no frame of mind that fit—and he sure as hell wasn't about to run to Nel for advice this time.

Ichigo curled up, cradling his aching torso. He dragged a blanket over himself and tried to forget everything. If nothing else, this taught him one thing about the arrancar—Grimmjow, and maybe the rest of them, despite what their intentions seemed—they simply didn't operate on the same level as normal human beings. Considering them in such terms would only end as it had—with Ichigo in pain, not limited to the physical, for once. And he hand no one to blame for it but himself.

* * *

A big thank-you to Q and B, my betas, who have read and helped me with this entire fic! 3


	15. 15

So, hello! I apologize for the delay in updating! I had a bit of personal problems that weren't resolved until recently. honestly, I'm surprised to be updated now! I hope you enjoy the following chapter.

* * *

Ichigo's body was pressed up hard against a wall, his face and frame towards it. And at his back was Grimmjow—he could feel the other man's mouth against his exposed skin, teeth and hot breath, like Ichigo was an animal trapped in a snare. His fingers clawed fruitlessly at the flawless wall in front of him.

"D'you know why you're here?" Grimmjow murmured, and his tongue swiped out, drawing a hot trail down the exposed nape of Ichigo's neck.

"_Haaahhh_." Ichigo whined like a thing without consciousness, wanting. He had no response for the other man, only raw need. He couldn't move from where Grimmjow had pinned him, the arrancar's body pressed in a long line over Ichigo, holding him fast.

"It's cause you're mine," Grimmjow said. His teeth nipped at Ichigo's skin and shoulder, before biting a thin trail down. Ichigo melted, an open surrender, one he hated; but only slightly. "_Mine_."

Ichigo made a helpless sound, and hated himself even more. Hated how much he wanted it, the hard press of Grimmjow against him; he couldn't control anything and pushed back with his shoulders and hips, arching.

Grimmjow's arm twisted over his chest, under his shirt and his claws raked a path from Ichigo's ribs to his bare stomach. "Cause you give yourself up this easy, that's how I got you."

And Ichigo didn't care; didn't _care_ if he gave it up to this thing holding him, he only _wanted_. His body twisted and begged and twitched; he felt Grimmjow's fangs sink into his shoulder, deeper and deeper, just as Ichigo wanted it; it was never deep enough...

It was a good dream. It was a _good_ dream, but that was all it was; Ichigo realized it as he stirred. It wasn't the violent awakening that seemed more appropriate, he'd simply moved and jostled himself, his eyes opening. He felt alone and empty as soon as he awoke. And how fucked up was that, that he was _sad_ his dream wasn't the reality?

Fuck. He was ready; eager enough to go and find that fucking arrancar, if only to relieve his tension. It disgusted him, how much he wanted such visceral things, and the sharp sting of rejection rose fresh in his memories. That'd hurt-a lot; more than just the physical blow of being punched in the ribs. Ichigo never did this sort of stupid thing in the first place, making himself vulnerable enough to get hurt; now that he had—and he'd had to have chosen the _worst_ possible person for it—he deeply regretted it. His subconscious desires couldn't have picked a better revenge for his chronic lack of attention to them.

Ichigo groaned, still hard and angry at himself for it. It made him just as pissed at the arrancar, for making him feel this way; even if Grimmjow wanted none of it, he could've at least had the decency to not lead Ichigo on like he had. Ichigo knew that wasn't exactly true—Grimmjow probably was only behaving in his natural manner, possessive and suggestive. It made Ichigo wonder if the other man wasn't simply toying with him again, like this was some new game he could use to drive Ichigo a fresh variety of crazy. Ichigio knew he had every reason to be _even angrier_ at the other man, for putting such thoughts in his head in the first place.

His limbs flopped loosely on his sides as Ichigo rolled on his back, reaching for his aching dick and feeling it like a burning brand against his palm. He could ignore what'd happened and just pretend for a moment; it was good, the few seconds it lasted—jerking off to the thought of Grimmjow's hot mouth, his teeth as they sunk into Ichigo's shoulder. How did it come to this, that such things aroused him?

Ichigo didn't spare too much thought on it. It'd be wasted anyway, he knew. He wanted and that was enough; wanted Grimmjow and that was disgusting enough. But Ichigo was stuck here, in Hueco Mundo, miles and dimensions from anyone else—thinking about it, there really _wasn't _anyone else. Didn't mean Ichigo couldn't try to find a decent excuse.

He finished in only moments; orgasm dragged out with his toes curling and his mouth turned to the side and gasping. Things would've been better with another person.

He rose, hand sticky and his hair mussed from sleeping, making his way to the bathroom. A shower, and then what? More of chasing Grimmjow around, just to be mocked for laying everything out, an easy mark for the arrancar to use against him? Or more of being solidly ignored? It seemed pointless. He knew he'd end up feeling even worse if he didn't stop thinking about it, but fuck, what else did he have here? All the things in his mind involved Grimmjow, and Ichigo had no patience for anything else.

* * *

Ichigo knew he should just forget everything, but there weren't enough distractions in all of Hueco Mundo to make him do so. On one hand, there was the obvious: he wanted Grimmjow. Very simply and very viscerally; like the good fight they still hadn't had, Ichigo being deprived of his power as he was. He couldn't escape the draw he felt towards the arrancar, though he dearly wanted to. Ichigo hated being held in the thrall of such base emotions.

There was also the truth, though perhaps less obvious: Grimmjow wanted him. He _wanted_ Ichigo; he _did_, Ichigo was _sure_ of it, just as sure as he was of his own desires. Why else this elaborate capturing in the first place? It wasn't for Aizen's benefit, and it wasn't for anyone else's—it was a pure victory for the Espada, but Ichigo simply couldn't understand things without a better explanation for it.

Maybe he was being too simplistic, he thought sullenly. Grimmjow might have only ever wanted him for a trophy to hang on his wall, and nothing else. He glared darkly as he watched Grimmjow march across a causeway to see Aizen, shoulders thrown back and every inch of the other man screaming of arrogance.

Such things shouldn't have attracted Ichigo. He worried that they did, but they _did_; his stomach clenched so tight it _hurt_ when he saw Grimmjow, and it wasn't for any desire to beat or best him. To want so much and so easily—Ichigo was ashamed of himself for swaying like this, as if all Grimmjow'd had to do from the beginning was show him kindness as he had in the desert. Ichigo hated how much that mattered to him, but it was the first time he'd begun to consider the arrancar as more of a person than an enemy. Ichigo almost wished that it'd never happened, so he could keep his priorities in order and not get tied up, imagining Grimmjow more friend than adversary.

He knew he didn't just _want_ Grimmjow: he needed him—as a tool, as an escape. The arrancar owned him, but Ichigo owned a part of Grimmjow in return, if he could use it. If he could turn Grimmjow's attention away from Aizen, to Ichigo alone; he knew he could make the Espada help him. Perhaps unwittingly, but Ichigo didn't need much, just a way out and he would sacrifice everything for that opportunity, even his pride—what was left of it.

It built in him angrily, waiting for Grimmjow to provoke him as he always did. Ichigo was so tense and irritable that the simple release of a fight would've been welcome. But Grimmjow avoided him, _had_ been avoiding him ever since Ichigo kissed him. Maybe he should've realized that for what it meant, but Ichigo didn't want to think he was wrong.

He ended up tight like a broken watch, pacing around his room when he wasn't walking the corridors of Las Noches aimlessly. His irritation was compounded by the fact that no one else would lay a finger on him for fear of facing Grimmjow. He wanted to dare them to do it; dare Grimmjow to take him on, but the other man was absent. Nel simply laid a hand against his shoulders when Ichigo came raging to her. She sighed slightly as though he was making a huge deal out of nothing, and it made Ichigo feel even worse. He wasn't about to tell her why it mattered so much; Ichigo wasn't sure he could make it through _that_ conversation without burning up from embarrassment.

Nothing was as bad as being ignored. It made Ichigo want to dismiss the other man as well, as if facing him would be giving in. But _fuck that,_ Grimmjow could ignore him all he wanted to; it was Ichigo's choice if he _let_ himself be ignored.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Ichigo demanded, once he'd found Grimmjow.

The arrancar was lazing against a red-pillared wall, and glanced up at him as though Ichigo were a nuisance. "What the fuck's _your_ problem?"

"You're avoiding me," Ichigo said. "Why? I need to know, Grimmjow."

"Because you're a whiny piece of shit, why else?"

Ichigo spluttered, unduly annoyed and unable to deal with it. "Tell me the fucking truth!"

He advanced on Grimmjow, and the arrancar straightened, pushing off with his shoulders from where he rested.

"You say I belong to you, in every way but—but just not like _this?"_ He glared into Grimmjow's narrowed eyes. "What d'you _want_ from me, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow tipped his head to the side as though he were thinking very deeply. "Huh, let's see: I _want_ to fight you. And I _want_ to beat you, every time, just this easily." He snatched a handful of Ichigo's shirt and spun him, slamming his back against the rock wall. "Heh. Now wasn't that fun?"

Ichigo coughed as his breath rasped back into his lungs. Grimmjow was smirking irritably, like it was all a game.

"If you're just not interested, I swear I'll fuck off," Ichigo spat, and Grimmjow's expression seemed to falter.

"Yeah, why don't you fuck off," the arrancar growled, his face snarling.

"Because I don't think you want me to."

"And you'd know what I want now, is that right?"

"Then what _do_ you want?" Ichigo snapped, snatching the hand near his throat. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

"I already told you, or are you that fucking dense?" He pushed Ichigo away angrily. "Fuck off! I don't have time for whatever shit you're trying to pull—"

"And what am I trying to pull, then?"

Grimmjow turned back to him, posture relaxed and easy. It was intoxicating. "You're trying to loop me in, I know it. And after that, you're gonna get me _attached_, ain't ya?"

He took a stride towards Ichigo, and slammed both hands on either side of his head. Ichigo flinched involuntarily.

"Well, guess fucking what, you little piece of shit? I ain't into that. Not that you ain't nice to look at—" and his hips snapped up against Ichigo's, a momentary contact—"But 'cause I like my prey running and scared, not whimpering and bending at my feet. Wouldn't've taken you if that were the case, eh? I like things that fight back, not give themselves up."

"That's not what this is about, dumbass!" Ichigo snapped. He stuck his face right back into Grimmjow's invasive, narrow sneer. "And I wouldn't bend over for you, even if you tried to make me." He turned his head to the side, teeth bared. "But I would if _I _wanted to."

Grimmjow's face was clenched and he took a quick breath, air hissing in his mouth as though he was tasting the scent around Ichigo. "That supposed to win me over, that you'd say yes?" His smile turned mean. "Think I'd give a fuck what you'd say anyway? Maybe I'd like you more if you didn't want it. You always smell so sweet when you're trembling with fear; would you still want it, if that's how I like it?"

"Then do something, I don't give a fuck! If you've thought about it, act on it!" Ichigo's hands darted out and caught Grimmjow's stomach, bare by virtue of his jacket. "I've thought it. I can't believe you wouldn't have."

Grimmjow twisted out of his grasp, still sneering. "This is a real nice try, shinigami, I'd almost take you up on it. But I don't have much interest in prey that just gives itself up. I like to _take_ what's mine." His hand snapped out to catch Ichigo's throat. His hand clenched, and it raised Ichigo up, by his neck. "And you _are_ mine. You just think by doing this I'll forget it, but no fucking way."

Ichigo choked and gasped; Grimmjow's fingers were digging deeply into his skin; windpipe and trachea; Ichigo could feel his pulse pounding under the other man's fingers from where they clutched at his veins. He couldn't form words, and then Grimmjow, giving him a look of disgust, tossed him to the side. Ichigo fell heavily, dragging air back into his lungs while his still-bruised ribs whined at the fresh insult.

"You're pitiful," Grimmjow spat. "Think I'd want something like you? Fuck off. And I mean it this time."

He turned, marching away with his hands stiff at his sides, and Ichigo only watched him go. He staggered onto his feet and considered rushing the other man, but thought better of it—he was still injured, deeply; on every level. He could feel, and remember, the throw Gimmjow had at him that'd bruised his already abused ribcage-and all because of some stupid thing. Ever one of his injuries were Grimmjow's fault inherently, and Ichigo would be stupid to forget it. He let his shoulders sag against the wall at his back, where Grimmjow had been resting originally.

Maybe Ichigo _was_ wrong. Maybe he just couldn't admit to it. Rejection settled like a heavy stone in his stomach—now Grimmjow had something new and deeply personal to hurt him with. At least it would serve as decent motivation for Ichigo to get himself out of here.

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Okay! I would once again like to thank my beta readers, B and Q for editing this chapter.

I appreciate everyone who reads and reviews, they really make my day :)


	16. 16

Omg, it's an update! Finally! I want to apologize for taking so long in getting this chapter up. I had it all ready to go, and at the last minute decided I wasn't happy with it :( So then it was just a long slog in getting things in order, and as such, this posted draft/chapter/thingie hasn't been beta'd, so any mistakes you see are my own fault (though I would like to thank my betas, B and Q, for putting up with my ~whims~).

I hope you enjoy this chapter and find it worth the long wait. I'll do my best to update quicker next time :)

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Kurosaki was laid out on a flat slab of some destroyed piece of Las Noches, sunning himself like a lazy cat.

Grimmjow'd had his eye on the little bastard for a while, when the shinigami was nattering on with Neliel about fuck knew what—it was annoying, having her around. Grimmjow liked it better when Ichigo was isolated; the little prick always had such a big goddamn heart for all his worthless friends, and Grimmjow thought he'd solved that problem. Turned out, the asshole was more resourceful than Grimmjow had imagined, and managed to always find _someone_ to be pals with.

It was irritating, but what was Grimmjow gonna do about it? Kicking Nel's ass would _definitely_ put him on Aizen's bad side; it would probably take down most of the remains of Las Noches in the process. And he wasn't Nnoitra, after all; Grimmjow liked the people he beat to _know_ who'd beaten them. So he suffered in aggrieved silence until the bitch took off, leaving Kurosaki the way he should've been in the first place: alone, with only Grimmjow's watchful eye on his reclined form.

The little bastard's resourcefulness in all areas was doubly irritating—getting cozy with Nel was one thing, but now the fucker was down to using decidedly _underhanded_ tactics against him. As if Grimmjow was stupid enough to fall for such things. He sneered for his own benefit, high above the other man in one of the taller towers left; Kurosaki had one hand flopped over his eyes to block out the false-sunlight of the dome, though the warmth of it seemed enough to draw out a sweat on his chest and stomach, bared by the brat's unbuttoned uniform. It made the skin on Grimmjow's spine itch, even though the shadowed alcove he was perched in was cool. He shifted and felt his jacket cling uncomfortably; Kurosaki just had to fucking ruin _everything_.

Though if Grimmjow was quite honest about things, he wasn't entirely upset—aside from the fact that he truly did _not_ appreciate the way his body was being swayed by the shinigami's lean form; ever since the little prick had made a move on him, Grimmjow's mind was unable to see things any differently. It led to an entirely new set of rules between them, and Grimmjow wasn't entirely opposed. He'd beat the little fucker in this, just as easily as Grimmjow could beat the shinigami in a fight; he just needed to be patient, which wasn't particularly one of Grimmjow's strong suits. Kurosaki already seemed stirred up and restless, the same way Grimmjow felt, but his one advantage was that the shinigami didn't know just how deeply interested Grimmjow was in anything he had to offer.

The shinigami was already practically _begging_ him for a good fuck; now Grimmjow only had to wait until Kurosaki actually did. Then things would be restored to their normal order, with Grimmjow toying with the other man in the palm of his hand, but he'd be damned if the brat led him around by his dick. Grimmjow didn't _follow_ anyone, much less Ichigo. Grimmjow would've figured things out on his own, probably; would've enjoyed it twice as much that way, without Kurosaki _ruining_ things by making the first move.

That was the part Grimmjow hated the most. He fucking hated it when someone got the drop on him. He didn't like how unprepared he was for it when the shinigami kissed him—and Grimmjow _knew_ how to kiss, how to tease with his tongue and teeth, and how to leave someone breathless—but all he'd managed at the time was to gape soundlessly like a fucking moron while the brat filled up Grimmjow's senses with the sweet taste of _human_. Granted, Kurosaki's fiery tongue was more useful like that than when he was spitting insults, which was more the speed Grimmjow was comfortable with.

Grimmjow could feel heat gathering between his shoulder blades, and in the center of his chest. Fuck, he wanted that again; wanted it real fucking bad. He couldn't _stand_ the way the shinigami made him feel—needy and helpless; Grimmjow could kill the little bastard for doing this to him.

Besides, Grimmjow knew that if the lines blurred between them, making them less enemies and more…whatever was left over, things just wouldn't be the same as they were now. He _liked_ the way things were, having Ichigo running scared, owning the shinigami's life in every way. He liked that Ichigo still fought him at every turn, a good challenge that would keep Grimmjow entertained for ages. Force and strength were only worth as much as the resistance they were pitted against, and Grimmjow wanted to make sure that when Kurosaki finally yielded to him, it would be because Grimmjow _made_ him do so.

But Grimmjow could only tolerate watching and waiting in small dosages, especially when the shinigami was laid out before him, oblivious and vulnerable. Grimmjow leapt from his observation point, falling several stories to land heavily on the ground. The noise made Kurosaki jump, and Grimmjow smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets before sauntering over to where the other man lay.

Ichigo glared at him as he approached, buttoning his shirt with one hand; _that_ was a pity. Grimmjow had returned the brat's zanpakutou to Aizen once they'd returned from the desert, and he was looking forward to a nice brawl—plenty of skin on sweaty skin, and the feel of Ichigo's muscles as they buckled beneath his fists. No swords between them; they were unnecessary.

"What d'you want?" Kurosaki grumbled.

"I'm bored," Grimmjow shrugged, eager smile not leaving his face.

"That's never good," the brat said with a roll of his eyes; as though he was bored himself. Grimmjow knew an easy way to fix that.

"So you're finally catching on, yeah? Not as thick as you act, then."

"Funny, coming from you. You've been hiding from me for days, Grimmjow. What changed?"

"Nothing changed," Grimmjow answered. "I just haven't kicked your ass for a while, I guess I missed it." His eyes narrowed, "And I don't _hide_; I ain't you."

Kurosaki matched him with a glare, "Do me a favor, will you? Fuck off."

Something leapt in Grimmjow's empty belly, and he followed the instinct using sonido to pounce on the shinigami, grabbing two fistfuls of his uniform and dragging him off his seat. He slammed Kurosaki up against the side of the stone slab, grinning jaggedly, "I don't owe you _any_ favors, brat. But you sure owe me, dontcha?"

"What the fuck're you talking about?" Kurosaki hissed breath between his teeth, countering Grimmjow's grapple even while pinned. Grimmjow had the shinigami's shoulders square against the stone behind him, their faces equal and leaving Ichigo's legs dangling helplessly.

"A fight, anytime I want one," Grimmjow purred. "You don't ever get to take that back, not ever. I'm here to collect."

"Is that right?" Kurosaki cocked his head to the side, considering-a moment before he kicked Grimmjow quite solidly in the knee.

It was enough to break Grimmjow's hold, and he cursed, staggering for a moment. He probably should've expected that; the shinigami without a sword was always deceptively powerless. Kurosaki wasn't a bad hand at fighting weaponless, fast and sleek; he managed to duck under Grimmjow's whipping arms and slam a narrow fist right into Grimmjow's midsection, winding him.

Grimmjow jumped away, stumbling slightly but laughing, "You're awful serious today!"

"You've given me plenty of reasons to be, recently," Ichigo snapped.

"Now why's that, huh?"

"I don't appreciate being fucked around with, asshole."

Grimmjow giggled, "And here I thought you were a glutton for that kinda shit. You open yourself up to it so easy, every time."

"Fuck you!" Kurosaki jumped at him, but Grimmjow danced out of his reach; the brat was just _so_ easy to rile up. And now Grimmjow had twice as many ways of doing it. Ichigo was an idiot, always leaving himself open for attacks, one way or another—mainly because he still considered Grimmjow human, when Grimmjow was anything but. He wanted to smear the little shit's face in that, remind him who had the power and that any foolish weaknesses he showed would be used against him in turn. Then maybe—after the kid learned a lesson, taught by Grimmjow's fists—he'd give Ichigo what he seemed to want so badly.

He looped a hand around Ichigo's neck, spinning his body until his back was pressed to Grimmjow's chest. He could smell the brat's reiatsu, sharp and angry, and Grimmjow's stomach flipped in a way that reminded him of hunger. "Bet you like this, don't you?" he said, against Ichigo's bare flesh. "Losing. It's all you're ever good at."

Kurosaki thrashed wildly before kicking one leg between Grimmjow's feet and pitching him off balance. The shinigami used the arm Grimmjow held him with to throw him to the ground, and Grimmjow rolled, annoyed.

"You're the one who's best at losing badly, shithead," Kurosaki spat, and chased after him with kicking blows. Grimmjow caught one long leg as it streaked towards his face, and the other man staggered but managed to keep his feet.

It was enough time for Grimmjow to get back on his own. "Now why'd you say that? I still haven't lost, brat. Nothing to be ashamed of here."

"Is that what you tell yourself? Somehow I'm not surprised that the thing you're best at is self-delusion." Kurosaki wiped at a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and Grimmjow fought the visceral urge to clean the redness away with his tongue. And then _inside_—he could recall the shinigami's taste when his mouth had been pressed against his own, almost innocently, like Kurosaki was asking a question. It was a goddamn shame the fucker had done that, because Grimmjow liked to _take_ things that he wanted, and it wasn't any fun doing that when the person you stole from wanted you to have it.

Grimmjow stood at his full height, the first time he'd been able to since they'd started; it was a little embarrassing, being on his guard every second. But all the same, he wouldn't dismiss it-Grimmjow wasn't about to bow low to anyone but the best, and that was Kurosaki entirely. "Self-delusion?" he sneered, "You _really_ gonna make this all about that, are you?"

Ichigo's expression darkened, and Grimmjow smirked in triumph. "Now, there ain't else much more _self-deluded_ than a shinigami that goes chasin' after his enemy. And not the sorta chasing after that involves running." Grimmjow used an instant and sonido to put himself right in Ichigo's space. He gasped the brat's chin, holding it tight and drawing their faces together, "I know what you're after, eh? And it's real _shinigami_ of you to use it as a weapon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo snarled, an angry flush burning up his face to the point that Grimmjow could feel it, where their skin touched even as Ichigo jerked away.

"I'm just sayin', you shinigami always got it into your heads that your better'n us; gives you an easy superiority when you need to cut us down. I don't accept nothing from one of you without thinkin' of that, and I _know_ you ain't after me just cause of my charms."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you, but I'm not much of a shinigami; not in their eyes and I don't expect anything better from you," Kurosaki said; his mouth was still bleeding. It was distracting. "What I want is my own problem, though I didn't expect having to fight over it with you."

"Now why's that, then?"

Kurosaki scoffed, "I don't know, maybe because you're always in my space? You're always after me, like I'm prey, except you won't kill me-why not? I'd be able to deal with that more than this." He dragged a hand through his hair, and it stuck up in tiny sweat-soaked spikes. Ichigo glared at him, eyes hard. "I've spent so much time with you that I've realized that I don't hate you, even though I should. I'm _tired_, Grimmjow. Just tell me what you want-I've told you as much, give me the same courtesy."

"Where's the fun in that?" Grimmjow sneered. "And that's all that you are-_prey_. Time you remembered, eh?"

Grimmjow was growing hard just thinking of it, and launched himself-Ichigo must've been waiting for that, because he twisted away, blocking as Grimmjow swung at the brat's scowling face. He swept Kurosaki's legs out from under him, sending the shinigami sprawling, but not before Ichigo managed to grab a mitt-full of Grimmjow's jacket, bringing him down as well. Grimmjow landed right on top of him, enjoying the feel of Kurosaki's body as it yielded momentarily. But then Ichigo was at him with hard punches, rolling them in a dizzy spin.

Grimmjow shook his head to clear it; the little fucker was fast when he wanted to be, but not fast enough—Grimmjow wrapped one leg around the shinigami's hips and flipped him onto his back, pinning Ichigo with his own weight and slamming his head into the ground with a dull thud.

Kurosaki winced, grimacing and spitting out a mouthful of sand. "Fucker, that hurt!"

"Hah!" Grimmjow smiled widely, perched over Ichigo's waist with one hand against his chest, holding him down. "You should know by now how fucking stupid it is to encourage me, eh, brat."

"I should know better than to expect honor from you, is more like it!" Kurosaki whipped a fist towards his face, but Grimmjow caught it easily, still snickering. The brat wriggled underneath him, trying to dislodge Grimmjow's weight by bucking his hips—and Grimmjow could feel the shinigami's stiff cock as it dug right into his stomach. His heart took two sudden jumps before it leapt into his throat, choking him, and the only air Grimmjow could get past it was colored with the shinigami's spicy scent.

Then the brat was squirming out from under him, shoving at Grimmjow's hip, "Get off me, you asshole!"

"Stop that!" Grimmjow snapped, and snatched Ichigo's hand. It was too much of a distraction, having this shinigami prone beneath his body and moving like that.

Grimmjow immediately regretted saying anything at all to draw the little fucker's attention to their respective positions, because Kurosaki's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing dangerously. "Stop what, huh?" And he put his face right into Grimmjow's, body lurching forward—and there was his dick again, hard; Grimmjow could feel it throb even through the cloth covering them both. He hissed through his teeth, shoving the other man away as he got to his feet, but Kurosaki followed.

"Stop _what_, Grimmjow?" Ichigo advanced on him, and Grimmjow took a step back automatically—that wasn't right, and he clenched his fists at his sides, hoping the shinigami would move in even closer so he could cuff the fucker right in the face.

Grimmjow spat to the side, blood and the taste of anger. "Stop being a pain in my ass? Stop ruining all my goddamn fights? I've got a list of a million things you should knock the fuck off, you little shit!"

"I don't believe that for a minute!"

"Oh, don't you now?" Grimmjow sneered. "You think you're that good, that I'd stop knocking you around if you just whored yourself out, is that it?"

A dark red flush burst over the shinigami's face, traveling all the way to the tips of his ears, and Grimmjow knew he'd hit a nerve. "Yeah, that's right," he continued, nasty and mocking. "You always think so much more've yourself than you're worth, y'know that—"

He didn't get much further, because Kurosaki punched him sharply, right in his mouth. Ichigo was shaking with anger. "Say whatever the fuck you need to, Grimmjow, but I know what I felt. You were hard—"

Grimmjow laughed, smearing his mouth red with the back of his hand. "So what, surprised that I get off beating on you? That's nothing new."

"Shut up!" Kurosaki's lips were thin and white. He stabbed a finger into Grimmjow's chest, and even that small touch was enough to make an excited shiver jump up his spine. "I'm sick of being your fucking punching bag. You wanna fight, _fine_, but you don't get to use this against me. Not when you want the same thing."

"But I _don't_, see?" Grimmjow sneered. He didn't care if it was a lie—like hell was he gonna let Kurosaki tell him what he wanted.

"Now I know why you tasted so badly," Ichigo spat. "It because that mouth of yours is always stuffed with lies. Bitter, like something I wish I'd never had."

"Wishing ain't gonna take it back, now will it?" Grimmjow smiled widely, glad to have the shinigami so enraged. "You brought this all on yourself, you can't blame me if it gets used against you."

Grimmjow made a swift charge and they traded blows, barehanded. Grimmjow wasn't a liar, despite what Kurosaki said; at his core, he despised the other man, for messing up what should've been a simple fight and twisting it into something else. He'd use Kurosaki's attraction and beat the shinigami with it, if only so the same didn't happen to himself. Grimmjow could turn everything inside him, everything Ichigo thought he knew, into a knife to stab the other man with.

They were in a hard snare when Kurosaki managed to capture his wrist, rolling Grimmjow's strike until his arm was twisted behind his back and the shinigami's foot snapped out hard, slamming into Grimmjow's ankle. It threw him off-balance and he stumbled, hitting the side of a concrete slab with his chest and face, his arm pinned at his back by Kurosaki's steel grip. He thrashed, trying to throw the other man away but only succeeded in grinding the skin off his sternum and face.

"Haha, so you still got a little bit left in you, huh?" Grimmjow laughed as he shifted awkwardly on his splayed feet. He used the wall at his front to anchor himself, clawing at the stone with his free hand, but the shinigami never released his hold; his fingers felt like iron against Grimmjow's skin, digging in to the bone. He hadn't imagined the little shit still had that much strength in his limbs, not after all the time Grimmjow had spent bouncing him off the sand for sport.

"I'm not as helpless as you like to think I am," Kurosaki hissed against his ear, too close; his entire body was too _close_. Grimmjow could feel the full length of it crushing him against hard rock, the shinigami's breath hot against naked flesh. It made arousal burst inside him instantaneously, like a sudden fever, leaving him dizzy and his muscles weak. He could almost have given up, like this, for what he knew would happen after. He'd stirred the little shit up enough that Ichigo wouldn't stop, he'd beat Grimmjow and then _take_ what Grimmjow knew Kurosaki so desperately wanted-what troubled Grimmjow the most was his slipping grip on how much that bothered him before; he almost _wanted_ to lose. It was humiliating, and he bashed his forehead sharply against concrete.

His vision doubled but his head cleared, and he laughed. It was a high-pitched cackle, slightly hysteric, "Not as _helpless_? I'll show you how weak you are, more helpless than you ever imagined you could be-" he groaned loudly as the other man's grip wrenched his arm higher; Grimmjow could almost hear it twisting in its socket: a dry, rusty creak. It was going to come undone in a moment, if things continued as they were; just as Grimmjow could come undone so easily-and how the _fuck_ had he let himself get into this situation to begin with? This wasn't how things were supposed to be. It was difficult to think or rationalize everything away when they were pressed together like this; everything Grimmjow hated in himself coming to the surface.

Kurosaki's voice was low, and too loud, close to Grimmjow's ear as he was. "Keep daring me, Grimmjow, and I will. I won't hold back."

"So you've been holding back all this time, eh? Fuckin' tease."

"You fucking piss me off," Ichigo hissed, his voice low and sounding like it was being dragged out of his chest with the last shreds of self-control. Fuck, Grimmjow almost wanted to see what'd really happen if Kurosaki lost it like this. "Is this just some fucking joke of yours to show how goddamn stubborn you can be?"

"What d'you mean by that?" Grimmjow giggled, euphoric and dizzy, pain and endorphins waging a losing battle in his brain.

Kurosaki's mouth, his breath, became even hotter, were such a thing possible-and then the shinigami's mouth was open, against the back of his neck with the slightest hint of teeth; Grimmjow could feel his eyes roll back in their sockets. "I know what you want. It's not hard, because it's what _I_ want. It took me a long time, Grimmjow, to realize it, but we're too similar for anything else. It's why you hate me; you can't admit you enjoy this any more than you can admit to losing-"

Grimmjow didn't like those words, didn't like even more how true they were-so he snapped his head back, sharply; the back of his skull connected with Ichigo's face. _That_ shut the other man up, if only for a moment. Kurosaki's grip faltered and Grimmjow jerked away, driving an elbow into the shinigami's chest and skidding in the sand until they stood facing each other, far enough apart that Grimmjow could gain his breath. _Fuck_, what _was_ it about this little shit that managed to stir everything in him up so badly? Grimmjow wanted to kill Ichigo for it, if only to ensure that it never happened again. He didn't like being put on his guard, and couldn't afford being made subservient to anyone, least of all the person he'd broken and made a slave to himself.

Ichigo's face was bleeding from a split near his eyebrow, a good look on him that Grimmjow was just _aching_ to replicate. "You gotta lotta funny ideas, shinigami. But that's all they are-ideas. Something you _think_ you know, but no matter how much you try, it's all just in your own mind."

"Is that right?" Kurosaki sucked his bottom lip into his mouth; he spat bloody and thick, before snorting derisively. His face hardened, "Fuck this. I'm not playing your fucking games anymore."

The square of Kurosaki's shoulders as the brat started away drove an icepick of angry desire straight to Grimmjow's center; he wanted to destroy Ichigo. He wanted to beat the little bastard until Kurosaki's mouth filled up with choking blood, until there was no denying who'd won. His eyes would still hold their same defiant fire, but the shinigami would be helpless, and then Grimmjow could have as much as he wanted of the other man with no question of who was truly superior.

"Don't think you can just walk away from this!" Grimmjow snarled, "Coward!"

Ichigo spun on one foot to face him, "Coward? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You're the one leaving before the fight's over," Grimmjow shrugged. "What else'd you call that?"

"I'd call it a bad joke, the last sad attempt in a long line of them from an asshole who doesn't know how to give up gracefully," Kurosaki spat. His eyes were narrowed but there was a flush across his nose, and his lips were whitened with anger. "You know how you always like to rub it in my face, how pathetic I am in this power-crippled fake of a rematch? What a disappointing fight I am? I'm beginning to sympathize. Except you _made_ me this way, Grimmjow. And you're a pitiful disappointment all on your own."

Grimmjow slapped the hand still pressed against his chest away, anger flaring. "Say that again, you little fuck! I dare you."

"I don't have to!" And Ichigo turned sharply, stalking away. Grimmjow's body was singing with tension, aching to chase after him and press that pretty face into the sand until it turned blue. But then Kurosaki shifted, snapping over his shoulder, "It only hurts because it's the truth."

"I never put much stock in that!" Grimmjow's teeth gritted together, tasting like metal. Fuck that little bastard who thought he knew everything. Kurosaki was only pissed because it _was_ the truth—because he _was_ weak and captive, and even this last-ditch effort to leverage some power over Grimmjow was worthless.

Grimmjow's muscles were still tense, hungry for a fight—and for whatever else they could get, his cock was hard and aching from the brief attention it'd had. Grimmjow was annoyed that he couldn't control that; it made him vulnerable and turned the entire situation on its head, making his earlier anticipation burn like acid inside him. Fuck Kurosaki, who still thought enough of himself to pretend to have any control over what happened—Grimmjow was half-tempted to show him how little he'd like it, if he got what he wanted. Grimmjow could fuck the brat raw, until he bled and screamed, and Ichigo would be helpless to stop it.

Grimmjow turned on his heel; as if he needed to do that to keep Kurosaki in his place. Nothing had really changed, he realized—so _what_ if the little shit thought he knew what Grimmjow wanted? It was still his choice to act on it, which Grimmjow most surely wouldn't be doing until Kurosaki came crawling back, in yet another attempt to undermine him. One thing that gave him great confidence was the fact that Kurosaki never gave up, and Grimmjow wouldn't have to do a damn thing in the meantime.

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Please leave a review or comment if you're enjoying the story (or not! I can take criticism! Honest ;_;)


	17. 17

Okay, here is another chapter \o/ Hoping to make up for the last long wait with a quick update (and rhyme along the way, apparently). Thanks to Q and B for reading and beta'ing.

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Grimmjow had been enjoying a real nice dream, full of skin and the smell of Kurosaki's anger; it warmed him like a smoldering cinder. And in Grimmjow's dream, he was winning as always: Kurosaki broke under his hands like a wave crashing on rocks as Grimmjow pounced upon him, his jaws seeking the shinigami's life as they sank into his tender neck.

The taste of Ichigo's blood filled up the dusty corners of Grimmjow's mind like a dopey coma, right before _some asshole_ started jostling his shoulder. He ignored it as best he could, before snatching the offending appendage—which turned out to be a foot—and shoving it away with as much force as he could gather under the circumstances.

"Fuck—_off_—" The foot was back, and this time it kicked him sharply in the head. "_Ow!_"

"Wake up, you lazy bastard!"

Fuck, that voice was pitched just too goddamn high for what Grimmjow's fuzzy mind could tolerate. He jerked upright, momentarily disoriented, before glaring at whoever'd disturbed him—it was Neliel, casting a big, cold shadow right across Grimmjow's napping spot. She was staring at him crossly, hands on her hips and with an expression that promised a scolding.

"You gotta problem?" he snapped.

"It speaks volumes that you still have to ask."

"Well, move. You're blocking my sun," Grimmjow said, flopping back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Must be nice to just sit around, sleeping all day."

"Oh, blow me."

"You should go to Ichigo if that's what you're after," she said, giggling like she knew a secret.

He peeked a look from under his forearm to find her grinning. Little smartass. "Do you want something? Cause I'm pretty busy."

"What is _with_ the two of you right now? You're at it worse than cats and dogs!"

"So?" Grimmjow honestly didn't see a problem.

"So stop jerking him around!"

Grimmjow raised himself up so he was sitting cross-legged, and jabbed an accusatory finger at Nel, "I am _not_ jerking him around, he's the little fucker who's jerking _me_ around!" Grimmjow scowled at her. "And quit acting like his goddamn mom."

"Someone has to look out for him, and I damn well know better than to expect that from you," she said, her tone exasperated.

"That's it, isn't it? He went crying to you just like a little bitch—"

To his surprise, she darted forward and slapped him across the face. Grimmjow blinked, momentarily stunned. He was gonna have a bruise from that.

"Listen to me, Grimmjow, I don't know what games you're playing with him but it's really messing him up. The two of you were acting fine not a week ago!"

"Define 'fine'," Grimmjow sneered. "And then tell me what we're doing different. His head's getting a little too big, so I'm smacking him back into place, same as always."

"You're avoiding him for no good reason—"

"Oh, he really did tattle to you, didn't he—"

Nel kicked him, a warning to shut up. "You're avoiding him and for what, so you can laze around all day?"

Grimmjow yawned hugely in response. He hadn't been _avoiding_ the little brat; Grimmjow wasn't a pussy. He'd been keeping his distance ever since their last fight, because he didn't go chasing after anything, or anyone. Besides, it was difficult to concentrate with the little fucker watching him with such heated glares, it was irritating. Kurosaki's eyes promised many things; for Grimmjow, they promised that Ichigo was soon to be on the receiving end of a very deserved _asskicking_. Grimmjow knew he was being immature, but that didn't exactly bother him. In this situation, being the immature one gave him all the power, which wasn't something Grimmjow would relinquish easily.

Grimmjow knew what the little bastard was up to: Kurosaki was trying to distract him, as if by using his body and sultry looks now and then Grimmjow would waver. It was a very obvious scheme that Grimmjow might not've had any problem with being a part of; he hadn't been _lying_ about wanting to fuck the little bastard. But Grimmjow'd come to realize that if he gave in easily, what was given with one hand would take away with the other what Grimmjow already had—the little prick's hate and fire. Grimmjow wasn't about to throw something like that away so easily, not when he'd worked so hard to get it in the first place. Giving the shinigami what he wanted without a fight would put them too close to an even keel—and Grimmjow wasn't about to let go of his mastery over the other man so easily.

"I got my reasons," Grimmjow finally muttered, dismissively. "You oughta be more worried that he's _sad_ I'm neglecting him."

"He just wants a friend, you're the closest thing he's got here."

"Che, I don't _wanna_ be his friend. Ever think of that?" Grimmjow noticed how Nel had conspicuously left herself out of that equation. She didn't just want Ichigo to feel better, she wanted to hover after the both of them and make sure they _played nice_. Kurosaki didn't want a _friend_, he wanted someone to _use,_ and that someone sure as hell wasn't about to be Grimmjow.

Grimmjow shrugged his shoulders, affirming his own internal conclusions. He glared at Nel, "We ain't friends, him and me, because I _like_ it this way. I want his hate."

Nel nearly stomped her foot in aggravated frustration. "Fine! But know this, Grimmjow, I _will_ challenge you for him if you don't knock off this avoidance routine."

"_You'll_ challenge _me_?" Grimmjow jumped to his feet, standing in a position he could easily lunge at her from.

Nel's smile was far from sincere. "In a heartbeat."

"Don't think you can take me, girly, it's been a long time since you were Espada," Grimmjow snarled. "And he's mine, fair's fair. You can't challenge someone for their fraccion."

"He's not fraccion so that doesn't apply. And why _do_ you care, anyway, with the way you treat him?"

"Fuck, stop lecturing me," Grimmjow said, and spat on the ground. "It's none of your business what I do with my own things. You'll be so fucking sorry if you try to stick your nose into it."

Nel turned, in resignation it seemed, as though she was giving up on him. "He's not _yours_. You just beat him—once. The faster you realize that the better off you'll be."

Grimmjow snorted derisively in response.

"You don't understand him at all. He isn't a creature, Grimmjow. You can't pretend to own him." She sighed and Grimmjow turned away. He heard her leave with a swish of clothing and sank back to his previous napping position.

_Fuck Nel._ She just always had to stick her big, red-striped nose into everything.

As if she understood Kurosaki at all; Grimmjow knew what was at the heart of him more than anyone. Ichigo was narrow and deadly; he had a deceptively fragile body that Grimmjow just _loved_ breaking. He wasn't about to give that up, not for anything; not even for what the shinigami had proposed. Some things weren't worth the trouble.

Grimmjow flopped down, curled on his side and tried to remember what he'd been dreaming of before Nel disturbed him. _Kurosaki_. Always that little fucking prick. He'd been killing the shinigami in his dreams and Grimmjow closed his eyes, eager to return to such normalcy.

* * *

"Beast," Kurosaki said.

His hands were on Grimmjow's chest, fingers splayed, and the weight of his thin frame was crushing Grimmjow against the floor. He saw the muscles of Kurosaki's stomach shiver, and then Ichigo was lowering his face down, down; against Grimmjow's cheek, before hissing into his ear, "That's all that you are. _Animal_."

"Nnngh," Grimmjow responded; he felt as though it was quite profound, given the situation. His hands slid over Kurosaki's naked hips, thumbs slipping into the deep grooves there as the shinigami moved above him.

Kurosaki's lips were parted, his face hovering over Grimmjow's and he could see _inside_, the slick pink of the shinigami's wet tongue—the same way Grimmjow was inside; inside _him_ and moving. He groaned and gripped at the little bastard, and Kurosaki gasped, and just the _feel_ of him all around—

"Hate you," Ichigo whispered, lips brushing across Grimmjow's as he said it, and Grimmjow answered with a hard thrust, making Kurosaki shudder, "_Ah-hh_—"

—and that was when Grimmjow awoke, his eyes snapping open and his stomach clenching. Fuck, he was hard; really hard. This whole situation had started out badly, and was getting worse, by the hour. If Grimmjow couldn't enjoy a solid afternoon of napping, the world really _was_ turning on its ear.

Grimmjow rolled onto his side, ignoring his insistent erection and instead channeling all of his frustration to anger and resentment. This was all Kurosaki's fault. Grimmjow could feel his steely resolve crumbling, and it was frightening. He'd never wanted someone quite this badly, but that was the way Kurosaki had always been—the one opponent he couldn't let go, or lose to, no matter what the cost. Now that Grimmjow wanted him so deeply it was almost paralyzing, he'd begun to wonder if maybe this was just a new level to that: of not just beating him, but _having_ him, completely.

Grimmjow would make the little prick _moan_; he'd make Kurosaki whine and beg and scratch against him, writhing and _wanting_ and all Grimmjow had to do was _give_ it to him, over and over again—he wanted to take Kurosaki entirely, and why not? Ichigo belonged to him, they'd established that already.

Grimmjow clenched his eyes, his brows creasing. This just wasn't the way things were supposed to be. He _knew_ the little shit was up to something with this, but couldn't Grimmjow use back, just the same? Grimmjow could chase after him; it'd be like in a battle when the shinigami got in over his head, realizing he'd bitten off more than he could handle. The scared look on the brat's face just before he _ran_—

It'd be _beautiful_, like the best fight they ever shared; he'd beaten Ichigo before, and now he wanted to see the fucker's face twist up in pain and bone-deep pleasure as Grimmjow pounded into him. He wanted to see Ichigo's scowling lips wrapped around his cock while Grimmjow's fingers pulled at his hair; he wanted to make Kurosaki come apart, and then push his legs out of the way while Grimmjow's cock drove deeply into him. Kurosaki's mouth would be wide open, insults flying, but it wouldn't take long before Grimmjow had him _crying_ his _name_—

Grimmjow bit his lip. This train of thought was not exactly helping with the tightness in his pants. This simply would not do. Grimmjow wasn't about to just hand over to Ichigo what he wanted, not without a fight.

Grimmjow grunted, shoving himself to his feet; he'd been napping on the top of a pillar out in the open of Las Noches's dome, the closest thing to real sunlight he could get. He knew what he'd have to do to resolve this situation—Grimmjow always took the easiest path, though in this case, it wasn't without a certain twist of regret. He knew it was for the best, but—he was going to have to kill Ichigo.

Things couldn't continue like they were, it drew his own perilous control of the shinigami too close to an arrangement of equality, and that wouldn't work. It wouldn't reflect well on his rank or his power, especially when he knew Kurosaki had ulterior motives. Acting on it would only reaffirm a hold the other man had over him.

It would've been like welcoming an assassin in by the front door: Grimmjow would wind up dead with a smile on his face, but dead all the same.

Grimmjow let his pesquisa spread out from where he stood, searching until he found the little bastard—the shinigami was crawling around with Neliel; Grimmjow could find him easy, drag him out for a fight and then end it.

Grimmjow couldn't stand things the way they were. It was too good and too awful; walking along a razor-edge and if he slipped, he'd shave himself in half. He wanted Kurosaki, always, but not like this. Not when it could possibly destroy him. He'd kill the little fucker first, and Ichigo had no one but himself to blame.

* * *

Fundamentally, I believe the underlying message here is that GRIMMJOW IS A MORON :D:


	18. 18

Oh hay! Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the delay. As we all know, _life_ tends to happen at the most inconvenient of times.

Thanks to Q and B for beta'ing this chapter. I appreciate everyone's kind reviews (in fact, I think the last chapter's reviews were some of the nicest I've ever received! It brought a smile to my day, each one).

* * *

Grimmjow's face was against something cold and damp; the floor, he could tell, and knew he was coming around. Fucking _finally_, thank _fuck_—

He couldn't tell how long he'd been out, subsumed in the dreams brought on by Aizen's hypnotizing zanpakuto. Grimmjow had realized that was what'd been going on, eventually. Like the most intoxicatingly real dreams ever experienced, they were impossible to distinguish from reality. For most of it, Grimmjow _wanted_ it to be real.

This had happened to him before, when Aizen punished him: Grimmjow had experienced it all like the materialization of his wildest fantasies, everything he'd ever wanted handed to him. And it was good, so _good_—until it twisted and turned horrible; the hypnosis always ended with Grimmjow wanting to kill himself to escape the nightmare.

He tried to remember what it had been this time; Aizen's punishment was always revealing in that it spoke to the truths deeper in his mind than Grimmjow himself knew. He'd realized this too, over time. And things always started out so goddamn _nice_ that he didn't mind taking a trip down memory lane: in his dream, he'd been fighting Kurosaki, the fight Grimmjow wanted with him—both in their released forms and battling as fierce as it always should've been between them, nothing restrained. Grimmjow'd gotten the upper hand, but how…he couldn't remember, not that it mattered; it was the way Grimmjow wanted it to occur, so the dream unfolded just the same.

He'd had Kurosaki on the ropes, his fucked-up mask shattering and his yellow-black eyes bleeding back to white—Grimmjow had seen the weakness and pounced on it, but when he came back to himself from the lust of blood and a fight, Kurosaki was like a broken ragdoll under him.

The shinigami's face was crushed and his throat torn out; he was making the most pathetic wheezing gasps, a dying sound that made the small hairs on the back of Grimmjow's neck rise up and shiver. It wasn't a sound he wanted to hear coming out of Ichigo's lips, and there—_that_ was where it had all turned awful, because Grimmjow knew, immediately as it happened: he knew he didn't want to kill the little fucker.

Grimmjow could taste the brat's blood in his mouth, and he'd spat out the gristly bits of Kurosaki's windpipe that still clung to his elongated resurrection-form teeth. In the fantasy-dream, he watched the shinigami's brown eyes fade as they turned flat and dead; same eyes as Ulquiorra had, but they just looked so _wrong_ in Ichigo's finely-boned face. Except there weren't many bones left in it that could still hold a shape—Grimmjow'd seen to that, crushing Ichigo with his fists until the shinigami was only a sack of blood and pulp.

It was a strange and very unwanted reaction, the way Grimmjow's stomach sank and then he could feel his guts heaving—and all because of seeing Ichigo that way; it made him realize, horribly, that he didn't want Kurosaki dead. And why _not_? Grimmjow's jaw clenched with the tip of his tongue pinched between his teeth. How _else_ was it supposed to be?

He enjoyed having the little brat under his thumb; it was fun. But when Grimmjow considered things, he knew Kurosaki would never stand for it indefinitely. One of them, eventually, would kill the other (Grimmjow intended to be the one doing the killing when that finally happened).

He'd wanted to kill Kurosaki for real earlier, because of how the little fucker was getting under his skin. They'd had themselves a good goddamn fight, the type where Grimmjow could see the fear rising in Ichigo's eyes—he knew Grimmjow wasn't about to stop, and without his bankai, Kurosaki couldn't do anything to stop him. So he'd _run away_, with Grimmjow whooping excitedly as he chased the shinigami throughout the halls of Las Noches. Grimmjow was going to catch him and kill him, and then he wouldn't have the little shit twisting up his body and his thoughts—at the time, Grimmjow's method of dealing with things had made quite a lot of sense. He wondered when it'd all changed.

He knew he could lie on the floor of his cell driving himself mad, rolling the images around in his mind, and knowing that Aizen'd dragged them right out of Grimmjow's own subconscious; he could pretend the sick sense of loss that'd overwhelmed him in the dream was just something Aizen had created to torture him with, but Grimmjow knew the truth: he _didn't_ want to kill Kurosaki.

He wanted him living, alive and fighting always; Grimmjow would do anything to keep his nightmare from becoming real.

Grimmjow took a shivering breath through his nose and was grateful for how stale the air in his cell was—it wasn't the perfect illusion Aizen would create. It was _real_. Grimmjow valued that, suddenly. He felt sick and cold as he lay on the hard, moldy stones in only his hakama, his hands bound behind him.

He could hear footsteps, soft and deliberate, somewhere near, and opened his eyes finally; they were rheumy, and his vision was blurred.

Grimmjow blinked rapidly, gathering himself. He'd been tortured by Aizen before when he'd truly crossed the line (though Grimmjow didn't think he'd gone _that_ far this time), and after the pain and torment of his body, he got to live his most terrifying thoughts in Aizen's hallucinogenic world until Grimmjow _hated_ himself. It was a good way to keep someone in line; Grimmjow knew he wasn't likely to disobey Aizen so brazenly again—at least not for a while.

The shinigami lord was going to come to him now and comfort him, ask him if he'd learned his lesson, and then Grimmjow could finally _go_—

"I wondered where you'd gone off to."

But it wasn't Aizen this time—Grimmjow knew that voice and was surprised by how strongly relieved he was to hear it, as annoying and disdainful as it was. He drew a deep breath and before Grimmjow realized it, he was laughing, a low chuckle that shook his shoulders.

"What's so goddamn funny?"

He didn't need to see Ichigo's eyes to know the other man was scowling; not like he did much else with that ugly face. Grimmjow had been lying on his side and rolled onto his back to face the brat, who was standing at the bars to Grimmjow's cage, frowning indeed.

"Another trick?" Grimmjow snickered. "I thought Aizen-_sama_ was better'n this."

"What're you talking about, shithead?"

Grimmjow didn't respond; he wasn't sure if it was really Ichigo—it smelled like him, _felt_ like him—but he wouldn't put another illusion beyond Aizen. Grimmjow rolled his shoulders, enjoying the deep aches in his muscles that the change of position brought; they felt more real than anything he'd had for the last three days. If it was actually that long—he'd lost track, in the dream. His mouth was still curved in a smile, and he could tell easily that it was irritating the other man. Deeply, intrinsically. Just as Grimmjow wanted it; nothing between them should or could ever be taken for granted.

"Grimmjow," Kurosaki snapped, demanding his attention. "What are you doing in here? What _happened_?"

"I pissed off the big man," Grimmjow said, and his face ached from grinning for so long. He couldn't seem to stop. He knew with a deep certainty that this wasn't another dream of Aizen's; this was Ichigo, real and alive and _here_, looking for him. Kurosaki _wanted_ him. Wanted to be next to him; he'd seek Grimmjow out when he was missing. Grimmjow liked that, he liked it a _lot_.

It made a lot of sense, all of a sudden. His stomach was jumping and excited, just by having Kurosaki close; the shinigami wasn't dead and Grimmjow could make sure that he never was. Why did it fill him with such a sense of satisfaction? Grimmjow wasn't certain, and didn't have the energy to field that particular question at the moment.

He made a humming murmur of quiet contentment, before meeting Ichigo's eyes. "I'm more surprised that you came to find me. Now why _is_ that, huh?"

"Nel's gotta big mouth."

"Hell yeah, she does—"

"It comes in handy," Kurosaki said, shrugging. "I'm used to you avoiding me, Grimmjow." The shinigami paused, as if he wasn't sure how to continue. "When Aizen broke up our fight—"

"I hate him." Grimmjow sighed deeply, with conviction. Thinking back, he sorta remembered how the fight ended: with Aizen popping outta nowhere, Ulquiorra right behind him—_of course_—and Grimmjow didn't know what happened after that. Tossed into a cell to be dealt with in Aizen's own time; Grimmjow hated being kept in a cage.

"Why did he get involved?" Kurosaki looked angry, but Grimmjow could sense the compassion behind his scowling eyes. It was annoying having it directed at him but at the same time, Grimmjow basked in the attention, soaking it up like the first warm sunbeam he'd had in ages. Fuck, he wanted Ichigo, so suddenly and so badly it seemed, like Grimmjow had never breathed real oxygen until he'd tasted the very air surrounding the damn brat. He could almost hate Kurosaki for making him so dependent, but it was good, so _good_ that Grimmjow couldn't bring himself to.

"Hmm?" Grimmjow mumbled; he was sure the shinigami had asked a question earlier. He'd just forgotten what it was. He shook himself back to the present and jerked his body into a sitting position. "You should know, you little fuck, it's cause of you."

Kurosaki looked quizzical, standing on the opposite side of the bars.

"Yeah, yeah," Grimmjow said, catching his legs under him so he could stand and walk to meet the other man. "All your fault. Cause you never listen t'me, y'know? I gotta push you around, and then that smashes shit up. And that ain't what Aizen _likes_—well, not after we near busted up the entire joint during the war—"

"He's got you locked up for _property damage_?" Ichigo seemed incredulous.

"What? What's that even mean?"

Kurosaki shook his head, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Nevermind, it's nothing." His eyes refocused, "Grimmjow. That can't be all that this is about. We trash this place more often than not—"

Grimmjow giggled; it was true. "Fun, though, ain't it? That's something between us that Aizen just won't ever get."

"I guess." Grimmjow could see the edge of Kurosaki's eyes lilt upwards in a hidden smile, the corner of his mouth curving along with it. "Kinda sad, when he's the one between us who seems sane."

"Depends on your definition." Grimmjow shrugged, lackadaisically. "I never really gave a shit about that."

"Maybe you should."

"Now who're you trying to convince, huh?"

"Oh, fuck you—"

"No, Kurosaki, _fuck you_," he sneered, and pressed his face up against the bars, his forehead resting against them. "It's what you want anyway, amirite?"

Ichigo's expression turned sour and Grimmjow knew he'd hit the mark. Grimmjow tipped his head; the bars weren't spaced far apart enough that he could force his face through them but he could get partway, if he tried. "You want it, dontcha, from me."

"That wasn't much of a secret, dipshit," Kurosaki snapped, though Grimmjow could see color rising in his face.

"Now why is that? I've been wondering for a long time."

"I don't have to explain myself, especially not to you," Ichigo said, folding his arms awkwardly. "And there's nothing to explain, anyway."

"Oh, really."

Kurosaki snorted irritably. There was a long silence but Grimmjow didn't push it; he had a feeling he didn't need to.

Kurosaki didn't meet his eyes, but then they flicked towards him. "I can like whoever I want. I don't need reasons for it. I could ignore it, but what's the point? I find you attractive, though I only wish I knew _why_." He let his arms fall before re-crossing them over his chest. "And I don't have to _like_ you to want to fuck you. I thought you'd get it, seeing as you can't keep an impulse contained for more than a minute."

"Aw, did you memorize every excuse you could think of before coming here?" Grimmjow simpered. He liked having Ichigo this way, defensive and angry. Grimmjow wasn't sure he'd ever give Kurosaki a second glance if he didn't act this way. He'd begun to like that defiance, _so much_.

"Then what's with this act, Grimmjow? If you're interested then why're you putting up such a fight about it?"

"Now who says I'm putting up a fight?" Grimmjow didn't want to let go of Kurosaki's anger just yet; Grimmjow wanted to keep it stoked and fiery so they didn't get too comfortable with each other. He liked the compassion Kurosaki gave him, but also saw it as a weakness; better to have him as an adversary. Always, always.

"You are, you motherfucker, quit acting like you're not!" Kurosaki snarled. "First you're lying and then it's fights? Why? What's _wrong_ with you?"

Somewhere during Ichigo's anger Grimmjow'd begun to giggle, and he smirked, "Nothing wrong with me, just the way I like it. What, got such a problem with that?"

He was surprised; Kurosaki's frame quivered momentarily out of anger before the shinigami turned on his heel and began marching out of the room. Grimmjow shouted after him, "Now c'mon, don't be a dick!"

Ichigo stiffened and stopped, but didn't turn. Grimmjow realized the other man was waiting for an answer. He chewed on his lip, irritated. Grimmjow didn't like being the one forced into a response. "What the fuck're you expecting?" he muttered, annoyed. "I'm slow, shithead, gimme a break."

"You're slow," Ichigo stated, as though making sure he'd heard correctly.

"Yeah, fuck, go ahead and be a prick about it," Grimmjow snapped in response. He shrugged his shoulders, bending backwards slightly; an arrogant posture that didn't go unnoticed. With his hands tied behind him, he could easily throw out his chest, thrusting his hips forward. It was an invitation and Grimmjow grinned, feeling the full of Kurosaki's attention centered in on him alone. "Maybe I'm just shy, right? I dunno what to think with you looking at me the way you do."

"Maybe you're just a _jackass_—"

Grimmjow laughed genuinely, from the bottom of his stomach and it came out like a crow's call. "Yeah, well you're the one that likes the jackass, what's that say?"

"That I don't have any better options."

"Ouch," Grimmjow said, his head against the bars again. It was an invitation to Ichigo, to make him come back because if he did, he could take Grimmjow easily: he was bound and in a cell—in the arrancar's mind, were their positions reversed, it would be a very tempting proposition. If Kurosaki ever acted aggressively about it, which Grimmjow doubted he would.

But Kurosaki did come back, haltingly, until they stood inches apart with a barred metal wall between them. "Why did you really get locked up in here, Grimmjow?"

"Cause I've been bad," Grimmjow said, trying hard not to smile. Kurosaki didn't seem to share the joke and only scowled in return. Grimmjow sighed, "Fine, cause we ripped up the fucking north half, what d'you think? Aizen already gave me a big goddamn lecture on jacking the place up and he's pissed I don't listen. Happy?"

"_Why_ did you?" Kurosaki's response surprised him.

"Why'd I what?" He shrugged, insolently. "Cause I wanted a good fight, why else? And you keep fucking 'em up anyway."

"You didn't just want a fight, Grimmjow. I saw it in you, you meant to kill me. You could have."

"But I didn't, eh?" Grimmjow's smile was back, because yeah, he had meant to kill the punk and make his life _simple_ again; he'd had Kurosaki running from him and they'd already taken apart one side of Las Noches—Grimmjow, at the time, had been gunning for the little fucker's life and had made no bones about it. "Maybe I just wanted you to be serious, for once."

It wasn't a fight just for kicks, to pop each other around with half-hearted blows, and Kurosaki must've realized the difference. Grimmjow got in about three good hits on the little prick before the shinigami started running, and they destroyed several pillars and out-buildings on their chase.

It was a good chase. A _fun_ chase, something Grimmjow missed. He liked having a quarry that was resourceful and resilient; Grimmjow realized if he killed Kurosaki, as he had in his dream, he'd be all the more disappointed for it. It wouldn't be much fun showing off that he'd beaten the shinigami once and for all, when he'd never be able to rub it in the prick's face.

"You're faster than I thought you'd be," he said, not really paying attention, thinking more of the previous fight.

Kurosaki snorted, clearly irritated. "I'm not a fucking cripple, you shithead. You're the only one who thinks I am."

"Oops," Grimmjow smirked, leaning heavily against the bars. "You don't seem too bothered by it. Now why's that, hmm?"

"Maybe because I've gotten _used_ to it by now," Ichigo snorted. "Not like you do much else these days."

"You better be worried, if you're happier with me after your life than when I'm leaving you alone, eh?"

"Who said I was happy? It's just boring otherwise."

Grimmjow snickered; he knew exactly what the little fucker meant. Life just wasn't the right type of exciting without Kurosaki around; he'd miss that if the little prick was dead, he'd missed it before, when they were apart. Grimmjow realized that things didn't have to be that way anymore, and it pissed him off that he was stuck in a cage now, with a set of iron bars in between them.

Ichigo seemed to have noticed, eyes darting to where Grimmjow's hands were tied. He stared, all soulfully and with deep, merciful intent at Grimmjow, bound and caged. "I can help you. D'you want me to?"

It was terribly inviting; Kurosaki could release him…and then what? Not much else, because neither of them could get Grimmjow out of his cell. Grimmjow had been in this situation before, and had learned through experience how impossible it was to break Aizen's reiatsu-reinforced bars. Being untied might make his arms feel better, but instead he said, leering and sure, "I can manage. But you're awful sweet."

Maybe it was the first time he'd ever said thanks to the shinigami, but Kurosaki's eyebrows seemed to unknit, like there was something between them. A trust, if they could call it that—Grimmjow wanted to call it anything but.

Even with his face and eyes so relaxed for a moment, Ichigo gripped the bars, saying, "I really, really hate you, Grimmjow."

And Grimmjow couldn't stop for laughing, a deep cackle that started in his empty belly and ran all the way up his spine. "Good," he said, snickering. "Good, that's what I want. I dunno what you want from me but that that's mine, right there. You won't ever feel like that for anyone else, will ya?"

"I'm going to kiss you." Ichigo looked up at him through his eyelashes; so seductive, though Grimmjow doubted the shinigami meant it that way.

He felt his stomach shiver in anticipation, and licked his bottom lip, "Okay."

"Don't freak out."

"And you shouldn't _tease_," he hissed impatiently, tilting his head to the side to get as close as possible to the other man. Then Kurosaki's mouth was against his, lips parted just so sweetly, and Grimmjow's tongue delved in to taste him. The shinigami pushed up, nose nudging Grimmjow's to the side; his face _hurt_ from how hard it was pressed against the iron bars. Maybe he _should've_ had the kid undo the shackles on his hands, then Grimmjow could reach for him and pull him closer as Ichigo started to draw away.

He chased after Kurosaki's mouth, catching his lower lip in his teeth, and the shinigami made a noise of surprise or want; the sound of something given up and surrendered. Grimmjow knew he could have it all. He _wanted_ it all. Grimmjow wanted to take and _take_; take all of Kurosaki and make him regret ever starting this whole dangerous scheme.

Kurosaki's fingers drew over his stomach and sides; Grimmjow felt his muscles twitch, mouth licking at Ichigo's chin and jawline before the vaizard stepped away.

Grimmjow pushed against the barrier between them, lip curled in frustration. "Get back here," he demanded.

Kurosaki folded his arms crossly. "No," he said. "Not until you can actually do something about it."

Grimmjow made a sound, harsh and impatient. "I'll do something about it right now, if you gimme the chance—"

"Get your ass outta here and we'll talk."

Grimmjow let his frame sink against the wrought-iron of his cage. "You're just gonna leave me like this? That ain't fair. Coming here just to get me all worked up." His eyes flicked deliberately to his crotch where his hard cock was making its presence proudly known. "You could at least gimme a hand. I can't even jerk off."

"My heart's bleeding."

"You're so fucking cold!" Grimmjow snarled, but Ichigo's expression was steeled against him.

"I've been dealing with you acting like a raving psychotic every time I try to start something; I think you can deal with a little delayed gratification," Kurosaki scoffed, and then turned on his heel. "Give you something to look forward to, anyway."

Grimmjow watched him leave, body and face mashed up against the bars of his cage, appreciating the slow sway of Kurosaki's backside as the little bastard went. Every part of Grimmjow _ached_ with arousal; he still had the shinigami's taste on the tip of his tongue. He wanted so much to just break down all the iron bars so he could chase after his prey, to corner Kurosaki and throw him to his knees. Grimmjow could imagine what would happen then; he wanted it badly, to rub all the shinigami's pretensions and superiority right in his face—

It'd be a while before that happened, Grimmjow knew; a painful realization in more ways than one. He twisted and sank to the ground so that his back was against the bars, his legs spread in front of him. His dick was hard, and what the fuck was he gonna do? Spoil things early by rutting up against the bars or the floor? Ichigo was colder than ice to leave him this way.

He flopped to his side, angry and aroused, his dick twitching impatiently in his hakama, and Grimmjow was wanting, _wanting so much_. He'd pay the little prick back for this. Grimmjow swore it.

* * *

Well, at least there was a little gay payout for being on hiatus for so long? :D? :D? /o\

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.


	19. 19

Long time, no see! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

Ichigo was bored. He'd been bored for a while, waiting for Grimmjow; it seemed like he'd been waiting for forever. Ichigo hadn't realized the arrancar had been abducted for punishments, stewing in what he thought was the other man's continued avoidance, and knowing the truth now—though Ichigo hated him, he hadn't wanted that in store for Grimmjow.

Finding the Espada in a small cell didn't lessen Ichigo's irritation, though it did temper it. It was impossible for him to be completely mad, even if Grimmjow deserved it.

Though Ichigo wanted him, he wasn't about to make excuses for the stupid motherfucker. Especially when Grimmjow was entirely in the wrong. Especially after everything he'd done.

Ichigo shifted where he sat, on a mound of rubble somewhere under the dome of Las Noches. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, not that it mattered. It was a decent place to sit and think, and be angry. He didn't like Grimmjow, not at all; '_liking'_ was an entirely separate emotion from what he felt, particularly when his object of lust was intent on destroying him.

Still though, irritatingly, Ichigo remembered the way Grimmjow tasted: he'd had him twice, once when the arrancar was in Ichigo's room; Grimmjow had been full of his own light scent and hot mouth. Remembering it brought a fresh surge of anger stirring in his stomach, being pushed away then, but Ichigo knew the truth. He was certain of it now, after he'd found the arrancar and seen him, chained and wanting, licking at Ichigo's mouth. Ichigo knew he wasn't wrong about this. He felt childishly vindicated, as if being right mattered so much, but in this instance, he was willing to admit that it did.

Grimmjow in his cage was sweet and sour, the remnants of his captivity on the tip of his tongue when they kissed. Ichigo was given so much to look forward to, in that small moment, and remembering it made things stir inside him. Ichigo hated that he had no distractions in the mean time. From what he'd learned, such punishments were routine for Espada that overstepped their bounds. Grimmjow might be there still for days, weeks. Ichigo had little to do but wait. Though he had Nel to keep him company, it wasn't what he wanted.

Ichigo wasn't sure how long he'd been stuck brooding with nothing but his own thoughts, but suddenly he felt the Espada's reiatsu gathering towards him—Grimmjow was on the move. Ichigo was terrible at sensing these things, but knew he wasn't mistaken in this.

Grimmjow arrived in no time, panting, his feet leaving deep depressions in the sand near Ichigo's rubble-pile. His face was alight and eager, narrowed eyes and pinning Ichigo where he sat. "Hey." Grimmjow said it while smiling, as though he could barely contain himself.

"'Hey', huh? What d'you want?" Ichigo asked lazily, scowling. "Out on good behavior?" He leapt down from his seat, but didn't move any closer. He'd been screwed around by the arrancar for long enough to know not to make the first move.

"Aizen got tired of fucking around with me. I must not be as interesting to him as I am to you."

Ichigo snorted, annoyed. "Is that what you think." He didn't like being called on his own interests, especially when it came to Grimmjow.

"Che, yeah," Grimmjow's skin was shining with sweat, and dirt marred his chest. "You ain't runnin' away, are ya?"

"Couldn't you take a bath or something first?" Ichigo turned his nose up. "You smell."

"That enough to make you stay away?"

"It should be." It wasn't, but there was nothing that would force his hand. Ichigo crossed his arms, waiting.

"You _fuck_." Grimmjow hissed the words impatiently. The Espada leapt at him, grabbing Ichigo's shoulders and pushing him back until his spine met the boulders he'd rested upon earlier. Grimmjow's mouth was near his, and Ichigo could feel his breath against his face. "You fuck, fuck _you."_

Then Ichigo's jaw was gripped in a long-fingered hand, clutching and drawing their mouths together. He let the arrancar do it, his own arms dropping to Grimmjow's sides and threading around, pulling him closer. Ichigo murmured, something without words, as Grimmjow mashed their lips together.

He tasted better than Ichigo had anticipated, but maybe that was just a measure of how much he didn't care. An earthy taste that drew Ichigo's tongue to respond, flicking against Grimmjow's as it wove into his mouth.

The arrancar's free arm wrapped around his body, not letting Ichigo escape, and his entire body seemed to _sigh_, melting up against the Espada. Ichigo's fingers clenched against Grimmjow's back, nails biting into his skin, and anticipation leapt in his stomach. Grimmjow had clearly been marinating in his own sweat on the dirt floor of his cell and he smelled of it, a deep green scent that was intensely personal.

Ichigo nipped at the other man's tongue, drawing his teeth across it and the arrancar moaned. His hips shivered up, pinning Ichigo where he stood. "I know you want this," Grimmjow whispered, a whine between their closely-connected lips. "Quit acting like you don't."

Ichigo scratched his fingers across Grimmjow's bare abdomen, hitching himself up against the rock at his back so their mouths were even, and laughed. "I'm not _acting_, dipshit." Grimmjow bent to lick at his adam's apple, his whole body pressing against Ichigo. "You left me waiting. I'm not going to just, _ah_—let you forget that—"

"You _will_." Grimmjow's sharp canines grazed his throat, and even though it was dangerous, a threat, Ichigo didn't care. The promise of power and a fight between them was what Ichigo wanted; he would've hated to ruin their rivalry even if it meant gaining this.

Grimmjow kissed him deeply, his hips thrusting up between Ichigo's legs, spreading them apart. Ichigo's hands stroked in his hair, licking at the other man's tongue, and he felt his knees shiver up so he could wind them around Grimmjow. It should've been embarrassing, spreading himself open like this, but wasn't; not when Ichigo had spent so much time thinking of doing the same thing.

"Hah," he whined, not meaning to, a gasp with words. His lips were open and his brain had stopped working several minutes before, mouth spilling out what was left over. "Does it bother you, then; being ignored, the way you ignored _me_—"

"Fuck, stop _talking_—" Grimmjow snarled, teeth bared against Ichigo's skin.

Ichigo knew with a certain sure clarity that they were in the open; Aizen might be watching—knowing everything that occurred under the dome—they couldn't fuck here even if it was exactly what Ichigo had on his mind. He kicked the arrancar's legs aside, struggling away from him. "We can't do this now, not _here_—"

"Here's as good as anywhere," Grimmjow snapped and caught him, pulling him back but Ichigo wedged an arm between them.

Grimmjow tried to get closer and Ichigo snatched the arrancar's mask-fragment, holding his face still and kissing him with only his lips. "Come with me."

Grimmjow made a growl against his mouth, chasing after it as Ichigo drew away. Ichigo started off toward his room, running and then using shunpo and Grimmjow was right behind him. Ichigo knew the way better, and was toeing off his shoes and socks by the time Grimmjow slammed the door behind them.

The arrancar took two steps towards him, grabbing Ichigo and pressing him backwards until the backs of Ichigo's knees hit the foot of his bed. He stumbled and Grimmjow bore them down, crawling on top of Ichigo and between his legs.

Grimmjow tore at his shirt and the fastenings ripped. "Watch it, dumbass!" Ichigo snapped, even as Grimmjow pushed the uniform off, tearing it further.

"Never looked good on you anyway." Grimmjow tossed the torn garment over his shoulder before stripping out of his own jacket. Ichigo's hands reached for his bare skin, dragging Grimmjow back to him. The arrancar's mouth was over his, kissing him and tipping Ichigo's head back to expose his throat. Grimmjow nipped at the tender skin beneath Ichigo's jaw, murmuring, "Been thinking about doing this ever since I got locked in that damn cage, you don't even fucking _know_—"

Grimmjow's tongue touched his collarbone and then further down—his sternum and navel, to the waist of Ichigo's hakama, and his body shivered up to meet his mouth. Ichigo made an incoherent sound, his hands over Grimmjow's shoulders and drawing the other man closer until Grimmjow licked the hollow of his hip, teeth grazing against the bone, and it seemed as though all of Ichigo came lurching towards him involuntarily.

"Nothing else to think about for hours and hours, how I was gonna have you, just like _this_—" Grimmjow slid a hand under his lower back, following the curve of Ichigo's spine up to his shoulder blades as his body arched.

"Ah, hah, oh fuck you, you _prick_," Ichigo whined, and then Grimmjow's mouth was over his, demanding. Ichigo wrapped his legs around Grimmjow's hips—the contact made his muscles shiver, and he flipped them both until Grimmjow was beneath him with Ichigo across his waist.

Grimmjow seemed startled by the sudden change of position, but Ichigo kissed him, at the corner of his mouth and then inside, letting his body fall heavily. He could feel Grimmjow's cock, hard between his legs, against his own.

Grimmjow was pinned under him. _Grimmjow_—Ichigo hated the man, because he made everything between them a battle. The arrancar could do nothing but be arrogant and proud and yet here he was: whining, his body writhing under Ichigo's touch; it was intoxicating.

Ichigo licked into the hollow of Grimmjow's throat, hearing him moan and feeling the vibrations on his tongue. Grimmjow's body was twisting impatiently beneath him, throat bared as Ichigo nipped and bit from his collarbone to Grimmjow's chin.

"Oh fuck," Ichigo hissed, his face close to Grimmjow's. His fingers curled around the edge of the mask at the back of Grimmjow's face. "What do you like, I'll do anything; just tell me—"

"Fucking _shut up_—" Grimmjow snarled, and rolled them again. Ichigo made a muffled noise, legs winding on either side of Grimmjow with his hands gripping, and his fingernails dragged against the arrancar's shoulder blades. Grimmjow was making short work of the sash at Ichigo's waist, kissing a line down his chest to Ichigo's stomach and sipping at his bellybutton, before jerking the hakama past his hips.

Ichigo's cock was suddenly very bare, all of him was. His breath choked in his throat; he'd always hated being naked. But the way Grimmjow looked at him as Ichigo lifted himself up on his elbows seemed more intimate than anything; he could be fully clothed, and he would've felt as though he were wearing nothing at all. It was like Grimmjow had never seen him before in his life, drinking him in with his eyes, and Ichigo squirmed.

"Don't stare at me, asshole." Ichigo didn't exactly know the right response, to be naked like this, with someone watching him the way Grimmjow was. He could feel his skin flush; it was embarrassing.

"Heh, can't help it," Grimmjow said, before his mouth sealed loosely against Ichigo's. His tongue flicked inside, one hand over the pounding beat of Ichigo's heart in his chest. Grimmjow hissed, the sound of a ragged whisper, "Oh fuck, you're so good, aren't you? Let me do _everything_ to you."

Ichigo's stomach jumped at his words. "How d'you—ah, how're we gonna do this?" He said, drawing away to lick suddenly dry lips, and Grimmjow pounced on him.

Ichigo's cock was far too obvious as it rubbed against Grimmjow's belly, "Let me get inside, fuck, I'll make you _scream—_"

"That's good," Ichigo said, though his voice sounded strange and choked. His body was arching upwards of its own volition, reaching for Grimmjow as the arrancar licked a trail from his throat to his waist; his teeth sank into Ichigo's hip, and it made him whine and jerk. He could feel Grimmjow's smirk on the skin of his stomach.

Ichigo hissed with his fingers knotting in Grimmjow's hair, "Don't stop, you fucking _prick_!"

"Maybe I wanna hear you beg first," Grimmjow said, and his smile was wide against Ichigo's hip.

"Keep dreaming—"

One of Grimmjow's hands slid under Ichigo, against his backside and spine, and then Grimmjow licked up the side of his dick and Ichigo lost his mind.

He wanted something to reach for to take hold of and anchor himself but there wasn't anything, just the bed and the pillow behind his head. Such innocent framings for something quite the opposite, when Grimmjow was swallowing him alive and taking him whole. Ichigo's hands convulsed, trying to hold him closer just as his hips and body bent towards Grimmjow's mouth.

Grimmjow's tongue was on him and against him, painfully; Ichigo imagined that he'd burst apart and then the arrancar took him deeper, hands against Ichigo's hips holding him in place. Ichigo's mouth was open, and whatever was coming out of it he wasn't sure, embarrassing sounds and yelps; Grimmjow would lord this over him until the day he died. And if he did, what then—would it really be so bad? It was a betrayal of everything if Ichigo just gave in, but he _was_ and he _didn't care,_ and in that moment, Grimmjow didn't seem to care either—

And then Grimmjow fucking _stopped—_his mouth drawing away from Ichigo's aching erection while his hands thumbed up the sides of his ribcage. "Oh fuck, _please_," Ichigo hissed, his hips thrusting up at Grimmjow for any kind of contact he could have.

"See, that's more like it."

"Asshole!" Ichigo scowled; he hadn't been _begging_, but he also hadn't really been thinking, either.

Grimmjow's cock was rigid, Ichigo could feel it. The arrancar flipped him over suddenly so that Ichigo was laying flat on his stomach. His head was dizzy. His fingers pulled at the sheets as Grimmjow licked from the knobbed tip of his spine, from his neck and downwards. He felt as though he was melting, with the way Grimmjow's tongue traced the curve of his backbone, the arrancar's sharp mask scraping against his skin.

Ichigo's body shivered up against Grimmjow's, which covered him, and at the door came a knock, insistent and loud and Ichigo stiffened.

"It's nothing," Grimmjow growled, against the back of his ribcage.

Ichigo's mouth was open against the pillows, and he made an agreeing sound, just before the knock sounded again. "I'm not, ah, here—_not here_," he said, not knowing if he was speaking to the person at the door, or in general and Grimmjow snarled, clearly aimed towards whoever was interrupting them, "Fuck off!"

There was a pause—maybe he imagined it, Ichigo wasn't sure because Grimmjow's hands were curving over his hips, from behind this time—but the knocking resumed with determination and Ichigo's stomach lurched. It was Nel—it had to be Nel; she was the only one who gave a fuck about him, and she was at the door, wanting to see him.

She'd heard Grimmjow answer, and that would only increase her curiosity; she'd be worried about him, locked in the same room with Grimmjow. She'd keep at it. Until she pounded the door down. And when she did, she'd see Ichigo like this: on his bed, on his stomach with Grimmjow at his back and upon him, both of them naked or on the way there—Ichigo couldn't remember how many clothes Grimmjow still had on, it couldn't be much—and then Grimmjow's mouth was against the base of his spine, and Ichigo whimpered.

His face was buried against the linen, and in his mind, Ichigo was chanting: _not Nel, not Nel, not Dondochakka and not Pesche, please _please_ not Nel_—and Grimmjow drew a wet, slicked finger down the cleft of his ass which Ichigo pressed eagerly back against, his mouth open and a helpless sound coming out—

The door opened and Ichigo was still mentally praying, but then: "What are you doing."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and the dispassionate voice pressed into Ichigo's mind like the needle on a record pushing down, down and scratching: _Not Ulquiorra—_

Before he could make so much as a squeak, Grimmjow's body was spread over his own, protectively; Ichigo could imagine the scene as though through Ulquiorra's eyes: he was looking for Grimmjow. He had found him. In Ichigo's room. And here they were, doing—_this_. It was so clear from Ulquiorra's eyes, had Ichigo had them; Grimmjow was stretched above him naked and feral and challenging the other arrancar for a fight, because he thought Ulquiorra was here for him, for _Ichigo_—and Ichigo's body was burning up with heat and redness, prickling with needles because of what Ulquiorra _had_ to be seeing—

Ichigo's frame was pressed hard against the mattress with Grimmjow atop him, arms on either side of Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo turned his face away, and clenched his eyes shut until they hurt.

Grimmjow snarled, and Ichigo could feel his voice rumble through is body, plastered together as they were. "What the fuck d'you want?"

"Aizen-sama wishes to speak with you."

"Aizen-sama can fucking _wait_—"

"Don't be stupid. Whatever it is you're…doing…can clearly wait. Unless you want me to report. In full." Ichigo heard the exchange but didn't see it, his skin enflamed. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and his fingers gripped to the sheets as though gravity didn't exist.

Ulquiorra continued, "And I will, Grimmjow. Report. To _everyone_."

Ichigo could tell it was a challenge, and he really, _really_ didn't want Grimmjow to take the second Espada up on it.

Grimmjow instead snorted, angry and agitated, "Fuck, _fine_. Now _get out_."

"Do not make us wait." And that was all Ulquiorra had to say. The door shut again, and Ichigo took a breath that seemed like it came straight out of the bottom of his lungs. His body was shaking and he couldn't seem to make it stop.

"God-_fucking_-dammit!" Grimmjow cursed, sitting back on his haunches. Ichigo glanced over his shoulder; the arrancar was dragging a hand through his hair angrily. "Fuck!"

"Are you okay?" It seemed like a natural question.

"What?" Grimmjow's eyes fixed back on him. "Damn, what's wrong with you? You feel like you're coming apart!"

He flipped Ichigo onto his back; Ichigo let him. "I'm fine," he snapped.

"You're red as fuck; did I really get you that worked up?" Grimmjow's face was grinning, smug. It was terribly irritating. He sobered, glaring after where Ulquiorra had been standing. "Goddammit, I am gonna _kill_ that fucker—"

"No, no, it's fine; _I'm_ fine—"

Then Grimmjow kissed him, both hands cupping Ichigo's face as his tongue swept hurriedly in his mouth. Ichigo's fingers curved around Grimmjow's hips as the other man mumbled against his mouth—"Be back in a minute, this is just _bullshit_—"

Then he was pushing away, off the bed and dragging his pants up while he searched for his jacket. "I dunno what this is about. Can't be anything important, but y'know that asshole—Ulquiorra, I mean—no fucking clue what the fuck he's sticking his goddamn nose into, and where did my shoes get to?"

"Under the bed," Ichigo said, wrapping a sheet around his waist and heaving himself up, though his mind seemed to be left very far away.

"Yeah, thanks." Grimmjow was stuffing his shoes onto his feet, his jacket in one hand. He roped an arm around Ichigo's shoulders and stuck their mouths together. He kissed Ichigo for what had to have been a long time, and Grimmjow's lips brushed against his as he spoke. He was smiling. "Hmm, this is so good. Wait for me, yeah? Don't put your clothes on."

"Sure," Ichigo answered. He wasn't sure what else to say. His fingers were in Grimmjow's hair a moment before the arrancar twisted away from him, shrugging his coat on and stepping through the door.

"Back in a minute, huh, shinigami?"

The door shut, and Ichigo was left feeling naked and dazed. He shivered; sweat was drying on his skin and he felt, instantly, very absurd and ridiculous. He wondered if he'd feel any less embarrassed or shaken up if it'd been anyone other than Ulquiorra at the door—if Ichigo had been caught with someone else other than _Grimmjow_—

He could feel heat scorching up his face just at the memory, and flopped bonelessly on his back. Ichigo tried not to think about what it would be like when he next crossed paths with Ulquiorra. Instead, he wondered what could be so _goddamn important_ for Aizen to go chasing after Grimmjow, fresh out of detainment. Ichigo hoped that whatever it was wouldn't take the arrancar long.

* * *

"Some things may never be unseen, Grimmjow." Ulquiorra said it in that dead, emotionless voice of his.

"Why dontcha pop your eyeball out and shake it, maybe that'll help," Grimmjow snapped.

Ulquiorra tipped his head to the side, staring at Grimmjow consideringly. "That is not how things work."

Well, _no fucking shit_, Grimmjow wanted to say, but didn't; he didn't particularly want to provoke Ulquiorra moments before they'd be meeting with Aizen. They were waiting in their lord's audience chamber, alone, and Grimmjow's skin was starting to itch from the way Ulquiorra was glaring at him. If it could even be called a glare—a glare actually required _effort_.

"I certainly hope you were not abusing your human." Ulquiorra's flat voice echoed slightly in the empty room. "How irresponsible."

"Che, you're just jealous 'cause you ain't got your little girlfriend anymore," Grimmjow returned. "I'd think about how much time you spent in _her_ room before you go around throwing stones."

"I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth than what you're thinking."

"Riiight." Grimmjow let his shoulders slump against the side of the room, arms crossed over his chest.

He could still taste Kurosaki in his mouth; all that lean, tan skin he'd drunk in—he was just so goddamn _alive_, more alive than anything Grimmjow'd had before. More than a fight, _better_ than a fight—a battle and then some; someone who'd come up against Grimmjow and _not_ stop, not until both of them were broken and destroyed, and if it just so happened that along the way they ended up naked and rolling around, gasping, Grimmjow wasn't about to be the first to complain…

Grimmjow couldn't stop thinking about the way the shinigami'd been coming almost out of his mind, breathless and shivering, arching into his mouth, and the _sound_ of him—fuck, Grimmjow could feel his hard-on returning. How long was this gonna take? He had extremely pressing matters to attend to.

He was going to find Ichigo after this—hopefully he was still in his room, in his bed—naked—and all the things Grimmjow had on his mind for what they were gonna do would keep them busy for the rest of the week, if Grimmjow had his way. Opening Kurosaki up, over and over again; really finding out what made him _scream_—it was gonna be like when he'd first fought the little bastard and got to learn all his weaknesses. Kurosaki was always full of surprises then, and Grimmjow didn't doubt the shinigami would prove the same now. He hoped the little bastard fought back against him, just the same; Grimmjow would have to _earn_ everything that he _took_—

Grimmjow wiped at a trickle of sweat on the back of his neck, and returned the glare Ulquiorra continued to shoot in his direction. "Stop fucking staring at me, freak!"

"I had no idea your base desires included things other than violence."

Violence was starting to sound pretty good, in Grimmjow's mind.

Ulquiorra continued, "You never cease to amaze me with your revolting perversions."

"You're the dumbass who opened the door," Grimmjow sneered, petulantly.

"An act I will regret for the remainder of my existence."

That almost made Grimmjow laugh, but then Aizen arrived through an entrance behind his throne. He didn't ascend to it, and instead proceeded towards them. Grimmjow straightened, and Ulquiorra's eyes finally left him, lowered demurely in respect.

Little goddamn kiss-ass. Ulquiorra was only jealous of what Grimmjow had because he spent all his time sucking Aizen-_sama_'s shriveled dick—Grimmjow had to clench his teeth hard to prevent himself from snickering at his own, private joke.

"You found him, excellent," Aizen said. "I have a mission for the both of you. There has been considerable movement from Seireitei into the living realm in the past few days."

The living realm? Grimmjow knew he only paid jack-for-shit attention during any meeting Aizen felt fit to hold, but he coul've sworn Karakura was still under some sorta spell, something Seireitei had done to shift its living population into an alternate, slumbering dimension. That Aizen hadn't mentioned that things weren't just the same caught his interest, but Grimmjow wasn't about to betray that. Not if it meant that Kurosaki had truly gotten him so distracted that Grimmjow had discounted all else; it woudn't be wise to show his ignorance, particularly in front of Aizen.

Speaking of which, the other shinigami was continuing, "It is of great interest to me to determine what is going on. Please, I ask of you only on this mission to observe and report, there is no need to engage."

A recon misson? _Now_? Grimmjow's jaw was tight to prevent the scalding grimace he'd be throwing Aizen otherwise. All other thoughts for what the shinigami's motivations were gone in a moment. A jaunt into the real world would take days—weeks here, in Hueco Mundo, where time moved more slowly—all Grimmjow could think of was Ichigo, waiting for him.

Kurosaki would be shifting impatiently by now, his toned skin betraying the muscles underneath as he twisted against the bedsheets—and Grimmjow could relieve him of that tension just so easily; with the way the shinigami responded, he'd have Kurosaki bending and _begging_ in only moments—

"Is something wrong, Grimmjow?" Aizen regarded him kindly.

"Nothing," Grimmjow snapped, his voice taut.

"Grimmjow has developed disturbing new habits." Ulquiorra supplied it as though Grimmjow had taken up eating his own toenails.

"Oh, good." Their master smiled benignly, as though he were privy to Grimmjow secret and silently approved. It was disturbing to say the least. "I regret dragging you away, especially after you had just recently gained your freedom. I'm sure your matters will hold for the meantime.

"Perhaps this will be a lesson in obedience? You would not have been detained in the first place, had you been more agreeable. I'm sure you realize this." Aizen smiled; less of a sneer, and more of an obnoxiously knowing expression. Grimmjow hated it. "But as I was saying. Grimmjow, I ask you to protect our second Espada; you are the most apt to perform this task, given your strength. Ulquiorra's ability to see and record will prove most vital, and I rely upon you to insure that he is able to do that."

"Of course," Grimmjow responded through gritted teeth. Anything to get this over with quicker. He wondered if he'd have a chance to get back to his room before they left, but it was not a moment later that Aizen himself opened up a garganta to their designated location.

Grimmjow was filthy, deep in his bones and his thoughts but still, he stepped through the gateway feeling yawning regret; it was a notion unfamiliar to him, going into a potentially hazardous battle situation. Grimmjow had always anticipated confrontation; he _yearned_ for it. His mind, however, could not be dissuaded. If the upcoming battle had been diverted, Grimmjow knew he'd have what he wanted—Kurosaki, bowing at his feet, his strong shoulders bent towards him; Grimmjow would see that anything Ichigo asked for was answered in kind, in the same angry, antagonistic tones that the shinigami demanded. He was Grimmjow's own, caught and claimed and now, over all things, Grimmjow wanted to show Kurosaki just how much he belonged to him.

Grimmjow clenched his teeth, knowing it would be a long while before he could prove that. He was going into a fight, to kill and devour—Grimmjow cursed Kurosaki then, for diverting his focus and making the things he loved most seem so insignificant.

* * *

Please leave a review if you have the time! :D I realize it's like almost an entire year since I began posting this fic, so I wanted to give a big thank-you to everyone who's been reading since then and to everyone who's left feedback. It really makes my day and helps with the motivational aspect to writing all of this...I am a bad procrastinator, so I appreciate everyone who's stuck with this fic up until now 3


	20. 20

So, thanks to my betas, B, and especially Q, for pointing out some serious problems with this chapter (but, I hope you like the finished product!)

* * *

It had been five days alone, since Grimmjow'd been called away. If Ichigo counted the half-day he'd spent waiting in his bedroom for the prick to come back-which Grimmjow never had-and Ichigo _definitely_ counted that day, not liking being made to wait. Five days was a forever in Hueco Mundo normally; twice as worse without Grimmjow to distract him. Whenever Ichigo had started to miss the fucking prick was exactly the same moment that he realized he was in seriously deep shit.

He shivered a bit. The new uniform-top Nel had found to replace the one Grimmjow had effectively shredded wasn't his favorite, being sleeveless. Almost more of a vest than anything else. Ichigo had zipped it down the front, but his arms were left bare, and the corridors were hardly warm.

Nel made the other Espada's absence sound like just another routine mission, the same as going out into the desert to find other hollows for the arrancarization process, but Ichigo had a hard time believing Grimmjow would be stuck in the real world without reason for so long. It made him worry, and Ichigo hated that. The stupid prick was most likely off caught up in some unending bloodlust, the type that made it easy to forget about anything else, particularly where Grimmjow was concerned.

Ichigo knew if that were the case, it'd mean that Grimmjow and Ulquiorra were likely engaged against the very people Ichigo was allied with. Time had seemed stagnant for ages, like the entirety of existence was limited to himself and Grimmjow. But here, the arrancar could be cutting down his friends at this very moment, or for the last several days, and Ichigo remained trapped: powerless, unable to assist his friends or to stop their attackers. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking, getting it into his head that it was more important to fuck Grimmjow, or at least make the arrancar understand what Ichigo wanted, when Ichigo could've been preventing what he knew what going on in the mortal realm. Someone was going to die-it didn't seem to matter to him whether it was Grimmjow or one of his friends, and that alone made Ichigo worry for his own sanity-but it was going to be his fault; he could've spent his time more effectively but he hadn't.

If nothing else, Grimmjow's excursion to the real world was all the evidence Ichigo needed to prove a theory: there was a sure way out of Hueco Mundo; Ichigo just needed to find a way to make a hole between the dimensions. From what Grimmjow and Nel had told him, earlier-that Aizen had sealed off Hueco Mundo entirely-Ichigo had begun to doubt that he could make an escape through a garganta, with his powers limited as they were. But it was possible, and that was all the motivation he needed. Ichigo could escape-he _had_ to. He'd stupidly turned to Grimmjow in the hope of exploiting the arrancar's ability to open portals, but with him gone, Ichigo knew he only had himself to rely on. He'd get out of this place, even if he had to take a fucking spoon and dig through the walls until he was free.

He hated that he'd spent so much wasted time on his own interests, though. Other people would pay the price for his foolishness-they could be doing so now, and all because Ichigo hadn't kept his priorities at hand. Ichigo knew he'd have to face his friends knowing that, and the dread he felt at that notion was almost worse than the multiple possibilities of what could be happening in the days Ichigo spent alone. Grimmjow had indeed turned him into exactly what Ichigo hated and feared most: he was a coward now, unable to stop things from happening, and too enthralled to prevent them in the first place. What _was_ it about that asshole that dragged Ichigo towards him like no other? He wished it was some outside force-something that Aizen had created between them to make him behave the way he did; anything for Ichigo to absolve himself. And that was the most cowardly part of all.

He could correct that immediately, and spent the majority of Grimmjow's absence concentrating on his own reiatsu. Ichigo had never been good at sensing such things, but he struggled with it now, determined to find exactly where Zangetsu was held within Las Noches-if he could find his sword, break the seal on it and regain his abilities, he didn't need Grimmjow at all. Ichigo sat in his room, eyes clenched and concentrating until he gave himself a headache, but little came of it: if Zangetsu was locked away somewhere, the seal upon it might be preventing his searches. Or, even worse, the seal was never on his sword at all, but inside him-Ichigo had begun to wonder if this were the case. In the past, even when he didn't have his sword in his hand, he was still able to at least _sense_ his shinigami powers. Now, there was...nothing. Like a gaping hole in his chest; it made him shiver to think what that implied.

Yet another defeat, especially in the face of determination, was twice as disheartening than the shame Ichigo had felt before. But when Grimmjow returned, Ichigo spared only a moment's thought for what could've been left in his wake-the potential dead or maimed shinigami, his friends especially-and hoped once again that the immediate draw to the other man was due to anything other than his own primal attraction. Ichigo simply didn't operate like this, he couldn't remember ever being so attached to one other person at the expense of everyone else. Maybe that was why he'd never bothered in the first place. Maybe, being alone and isolated as he was, with only Grimmjow as steady company, it was the only way things could've happened like this in the first place. With more distractions, Ichigo knew he'd never have been so foolish. He was lost and alone here; he didn't like what it'd turned him into, but he couldn't escape or excuse things even if that were the case.

Whatever Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had run into in the real world had landed them in the infirmary. Easy mission by Nel's standards or not, it was clearly dangerous enough to leave them incapacitated. Ichigo could feel the strength of the Espada's reiatsu growing in his mind as he hurried down the corridor, and knew he should've been heartened by that. His friends were strong. No doubt they could protect themselves adequately, even in his absence; he had faith. But Ichigo always held more confidence in certainty, the type he could see or ensure with his own hands.

He rounded a corner and forced himself to walk at a normal pace, reaching the medical unit in no time, though it seemed to take forever. He stopped abruptly in the entry way, as though he'd walked straight into a wall.

"Shit, what _happened_?"

"You should see the other guy!" Grimmjow grinned from where he was sprawled out on an infirmary bed, naked except for his tattered hakama, rust-soaked and filthy. He looked unbalanced and awkward somehow, and it took Ichigo a moment to realize that it was due to only having one leg.

"What the fuck did you do to yourself, asshole?" Ichigo demanded; his legs were moving of their own volition as he came to a stop beside the other man.

Grimmjow pulled himself into a sitting position, a wide smile still plastered across his face. "I didn't do anything, okay? It's this dumbass's fault"—he jerked a thumb in the direction of Ulquiorra, who was laid out on a similar bed. His eyes remained closed and his face unmoving. Ichigo couldn't see any immediate damage to the other Espada, but that didn't mean much. "And I don't even know what you're so pissed about, fuck. This's nothing."

"Your leg's missing!"

"No it ain't, got it right here," Grimmjow said, and slapped his disembodied limb, which was lying on a table beside him, amongst innumerable medical instruments. It had an ashen, waxy look to it, and had been severed around mid-thigh.

"Fat lot of good it does you over there, dipshit." Ichigo folded his arms crossly, and glared while Grimmjow continued to smirk in response. The arrancar looked entirely too pleased for the situation.

"Aw, what? You worried about little ol' me? You can say that, I don't mind."

"I know better than to waste concern on you," Ichigo snapped. But he leaned forward swiftly, not giving Grimmjow a moment to react as he pressed their lips together, tasting the other man's mouth with a brief sweep of his tongue. He'd missed it, and hadn't been able to get it off his mind in all the days since. Grimmjow had the sweet flavor of something forbidden, something Ichigo knew he shouldn't have but what he couldn't keep himself from taking.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Grimmjow murmured, and snagged the front of Ichigo's shirt, bringing him back. He nipped at Ichigo's bottom lip before taking his mouth, and Ichigo let himself sink forward until their foreheads rested against one another. "Miss me, huh?"

"Don't be stupid." But Ichigo drew a hand through the arrancar's hair, holding his face close.

"You can say that too, y'know. I missed you."

Something fluttered in Ichigo's stomach, and he wasn't sure what it was. He shivered and his brows knit; they were so close, with their faces together like this. "I—"

"No. Not in my presence," Ulquiorra's voice interrupted him. "You will cease."

Ichigo hadn't even noticed that the other Espada was awake; his eyes still weren't open, but he pointed a single forefinger at the both of them threateningly. Ichigo knew the bastard could blast a cero from only that, and drew away from Grimmjow immediately.

"Che, jealous is an ugly color on you, Ulquiorra," Grimmjow spat.

"And stupidity is a very fitting one for you." The second Espada never opened his eyes, but dropped his arm onto the bed beside him.

"Hn," Grimmjow snorted, and turned back to Ichigo. "Don't pay attention to that asshole, he's just pissed 'cause I won't say thanks for getting us both back here."

"I should not have bothered," Ulquiorra added. "I should have made you crawl back on your own."

"And I only got banged up protecting your sorry ass!"

"I did not require your assistance."

"The fuck you didn't," Grimmjow said, petulantly, glaring at the unmoving mask that was Ulquiorra's face.

It was exasperating, like watching a petty squabble between siblings, and Ichigo turned to face the other Espada, "_Thank_ you, for getting this dumbass back." He turned to glare pointedly at Grimmjow, "Even if it wasn't entirely in one piece."

"Do not speak to me," Ulquiorra said, with complete absence of emotion.

"Yeah, don't bother with him," Grimmjow added. His thumb swept over Ichigo's lower lip before dropping to take Ichigo's hand in his own. "You can speak to me, though."

"Who says I want to?"

"Oh, and I like this," Grimmjow said, tugging at the bottom of Ichigo's new top before drifting up his bare arm to his shoulder. "You should've been wearing this the whole time, it suits you."

"Stop it. You're annoying." Ichigo shrugged the arrancar's hand off of him, glaring.

It drew a smile over Grimmjow's face again, crinkling the corners of his eyes; Ichigo imagined the other man must've lost a lot of blood along with his leg, and blamed the giddy expression on that. "There you go with that grouchy routine of yours again, how long're you gonna keep that up, huh?"

"It's not a _routine_. I'm pissed, dumbass," Ichigo countered. "And you're the one acting weird, anyway."

"Maybe I'm just happy to see you, ever think of that?"

"I think you're suffering from _blood-loss_—"

That drew a wild cackle, and Grimmjow was still snickering when he shrugged, "Maybe, prob'ly. But who cares, right? Anything's better than that asshole's company," he nodded at Ulquiorra, and his fingers were twining themselves lazily amongst Ichigo's. "_Especially_ when I knew what I had to look forward to, once I got back here."

"Like you're gonna be able to do much with only one leg," Ichigo muttered. "Is Aizen going to be able to put that back?"

"Sure, why not?" Grimmjow seemed wholly unconcerned, though Ichigo was; losing a limb like that shouldn't have been something that was taken so lightly. But he remembered chopping off one of Yammy's arms once, in their first confrontation, and it had certainly been reattached. Ichigo couldn't imagine the process would be a swift one, and it was annoying, having to wait even longer; he _wanted_ Grimmjow, just as badly as the other man wanted him, it seemed. _Fuck_, he just couldn't seem to _stop_, despite how much Ichigo knew he should.

"What the hell happened out there, anyway?" he asked, curious despite himself.

"Nothing much. Didn't see anyone else for the first bit—"

"How long were you gone?"

"Beats me, a day and a half?" Grimmjow shrugged a single shoulder noncommittally.

"It's been almost a week!" Ichigo responded, though it was good to know by some measure how different the time passed between the two worlds.

"Oh, then I guess I _really_ owe you, don't I?" The arrancar leered suggestively, and his thumb rubbed circles against Ichigo's palm. "I don't mind making up for it."

"Concentrate on getting your ass out of the infirmary, idiot. How'd you get yourself put in here in the first place?"

"We got rushed by five of your little shinigami friends all at once, okay? Aizen didn't want us to fight, even if we got jumped—which is _bullshit, _I might add—"

"I'm sure you deserved it," Ichigo snapped. It all came rushing up in his chest, the sudden reminder-Grimmjow was still the enemy, and Ichigo was still here, stuck on the other side and trapped by the Espada; that was the truth, regardless of any other feelings that had gotten in the way. He hated that he wanted to forget about it entirely.

"Don't worry," Grimmjow smirked arrogantly. "I fucked that asshole up good, the one that took my leg. Only needed one foot to kick his ass!" He patted the corpse-colored limb beside him in what Ichigo imagined was an affectionate manner.

"What did he look like?" He couldn't stop himself from asking; Ichigo needed to know.

"I dunno, he had a lotta tattoos. His sword was a mean piece of work, if you could even call it a sword anymore."

There was a stone sinking inside Ichigo's chest, and his mouth went dry. _Renji_. "With red hair?"

"Nah, it was dark. What's the matter, friend of yours?"

Hisagi, then; Ichigo didn't know the lieutenant well, but what did it matter? They were on the same side; he and Grimmjow weren't. He and Grimmjow shouldn't have been.

Ichigo knew things would continue like this, with Aizen and his forces attacking people he knew—his friends, possibly—and here he was, fucking around with one of the very people who would be doing the killing. He'd known all of this from the start, and only through willful ignorance had things continued between himself and Grimmjow. Ichigo had become so obsessed with his own primal urges that he couldn't-or wouldn't-pay attention to anything else, no matter how much it mattered. He hated himself in a sharp moment of shame: how could he have gotten so wrapped up in things here, when they'd never matter or amount to anything?

Ichigo realized, starkly, that he'd gotten so far off the path he should've taken that he couldn't even see it anymore. He'd ignored the problem for long enough. But here it was: he was at Grimmjow's bedside, hoping the arrancar would recover quickly, when Ichigo should've spent all this time concentrating on the important things at play—stopping Aizen, escaping, _making a difference_—

He was letting himself be led around by his dick, and by _Grimmjow_ of all people. Disgust crawled in a acidic wave in his throat and Ichigo twisted away. Here he was, hovering over the same bastard that'd trapped him here in the first place, and who still liked to claim ownership over him.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Grimmjow had continued talking, though Ichigo hadn't listened. "I came back alright, didn't I?"

"That's not the problem, dumbass," Ichigo snapped, and pulled his hand out of Grimmjow's grip. He shook his head, "Actually, that's _exactly_ the problem."

His stomach twisting itself in knots, Ichigo turned to leave; he had to get away, if only to put his mind back in order. But the arrancar barked after him, "Hey, what the fuck? Get back here!"

"No," Ichigo answered, not even turning. He knew Grimmjow couldn't follow him, not with only one leg, though he didn't entirely put it past the other man.

"What's the goddamn problem?"

"It's not a problem, Grimmjow. It's a reminder. One I sorely needed, so thanks for that," Ichigo said over his shoulder as he went. His hand felt cold after the heat of Grimmjow's against it, and Ichigo hated that he missed it. But most of all, he couldn't stand himself, for letting his feelings clutter up what should've been a simple thing of hating the other man. It would've been easier if he'd never allowed any of this to happen in the first place, and Ichigo resolved to not make the same mistake a second time.

* * *

WELL IT IS TIME FOR CHRISTMAS, I HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD HOLIDAY/BREAK FROM SCHOOL! :D :D :DD

A small note on reviews: I don't know if this site is just kinda inherently sucky or what, but I do try to address and respond to reviews (particularly questions) in PMs or 'review responses'. However, I sometimes think I'm just shouting into the ether in doing this, because I rarely get responses back or confirmation that the message is sent...I am not intending to guilt anyone into PMing me, but in case you asked a quesiton or left a review and think I'm a rude bitch for never getting back to you THIS IS WHY :C I just don't think this damn thing works! D:


	21. 21

Sorry this chapter is so short! /o\

Thanks to my beta's Q and B. Wnd thanks for reading! I appreciate it.

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Ichigo walked for what seemed like forever, without direction. An emptiness yawned widely in his stomach, and only grew worse with every step. He was such a fucking moron—what had he expected, honestly? Grimmjow was a sadistic prick; maybe Ichigo had simply grown too used to the psychopath directing all his murderous impulses at him to realize it. The war hadn't really ended, not for a second, though it felt like it had, trapped in Hueco Mundo. Like time didn't seem to matter here—and how much of it had Ichigo wasted, chasing after Grimmjow's ass?

He'd been able to delude himself into thinking he could use the arrancar as a possible escape, if he got close enough to the other man, but now Ichigo couldn't even stand to do that. It was so close to siding with the enemy, he might as well've just called it as such—handing over all of himself to be used completely, when it wouldn't even guarantee his escape. Ichigo didn't justify his actions to anyone, and he hated that now, he felt like he needed to.

How selfish could he possibly be, Ichigo wondered. Willing to sacrifice everything he stood for, if only so that he could get off, no matter how many other people it put in danger. Having Grimmjow in Hueco Mundo, away from everyone else, had made it easy for him to forget what was important. How long was he going to be here—trapped away from everything that made sense in his mind, and the space filled up by the exact opposite.

"What will you do?" Ichigo asked Nel, later, after he'd worn himself out thinking until his head hurt. Aizen's summons had rung in his head until Ichigo felt disoriented and nauseous; Ichigo imagined that Aizen was looking forward to a gloating audience after Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's return. Ichigo didn't mind attending if it meant he'd know what really had happened in the real world. He didn't particularly want to ask Grimmjow about the details.

Ichigo had arrived in the auditorium to find Nel and her fraccion, already waiting for Aizen to arrive. He was glad to see her, and joined Nel on the low steps where she sat, sharpening her blade to waste the time. "You've already sided with Aizen," he continued. "Are you going to kill shinigami to serve him?"

"I've killed shinigami before," she answered. Ichigo was surprised. He didn't want to imagine Nel killing anyone. "Why?"

Ichigo looked away, not wanting to acknowledge that she surely had, in the past. As a hollow. It was too hard having her as an ally first; now he couldn't even consider her an enemy—even if she would eventually become one, once he finally escaped. Nel made no illusions about her loyalty to Aizen.

"C'mon, you must've known that," she said, disbelief in her voice. "I wouldn't have lived long if I hadn't."

"You didn't have to."

"And what would I've done instead, huh? Gotten killed myself?" She laughed lightly. "I didn't come this far to get knocked back to nothing."

"It's not _nothing_, you'd go to Soul Society. You wouldn't have to still be a hollow," Ichigo said, scowling at the ground. He didn't want to tell Nel the real reasoning behind his questions, which only made him feel like more of a pathetic, lovelorn idiot; Ichigo felt a hard knot form in his stomach at putting things in that way, but it was the most accurate. Even acting upset over this made him feel stupid.

"That's your problem right there, you know that?" Nel's irritating was clear in her voice. It wasn't something Ichigo was used to, from her. "You never think that maybe we _like_ being hollows, maybe this is what I'm _supposed_ to be. If I got sent back to Seireitei, what would be left, huh? I can't even remember what my first soul looked like."

"Maybe you should find out," Ichigo snorted, petulantly.

"Maybe I don't _want_ to," she returned, nose turned up towards him. "You don't even know if that's true; who says what we turn back into, once we die. You ever met anything that used to be hollow in Soul Society?"

"Don't mess me up anymore than I already am," Ichigo said, and didn't meet her eyes. Of course he didn't know, because he'd never thought to ask—that annoyed him also, his own stupidity—but he'd never been stuck with enough time to think these things over when he'd first started out. Rukia said the hollows were purified; that had to be better than what they were now. He hadn't questioned what happened after.

Things weren't as complicated before the arrancar, before hollows started seeming more human than animal. Grimmjow was still plenty animal, and Ichigo was thankful for that—easier to put him in a category far away from what Ichigo knew as normal. Nel confused him; she was too much of a friend to be an enemy, and he dreaded the day when she eventually would be. She wasn't trying to convince or sway him into staying, and that was almost worse: Ichigo would be grateful if, just for once, she'd act like the evil antithesis she was supposed to be.

Nel shrugged her shoulders, "Would you go back to being a normal human, now that you've been a shinigami?"

"You piss me off," he muttered, not directed at Nel but the entire situation.

"Life doesn't give you easy answers every time."

"Doesn't give you any better," Ichigo grumbled. "What're you gonna do, huh? When you run into me, or Rukia, or Inoue? You gonna fight us?"

"Of course." Ichigo envied how easily she answered. It was also frightening. Nel returned to working on her blade. "And I'd expect you not to disappoint me."

"Now you're starting to sound like Grimmjow."

"I knew he was the reason for all of this," she said, her eyes focusing on Ichigo slyly. "What's the matter, starting to enjoy the company too much?"

"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."

"Oh, _am_ I?" she smiled, and stuck her tongue out at him through her teeth. "Speaking of which." Nel glanced at the door, nodding her head-and there the fucker was, of course, limping pitifully—but at least Grimmjow's leg was attached this time.

"Shit," Ichigo cursed. He wasn't exactly ready to deal with the prick just yet—not when he still felt messed up inside, more conflicted than ever.

"Some choices are always bad, but what can you do? You're not the type to run from things." Nel smiled kindly at him_. Bad choices_—it basically summed up Ichigo's life.

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Hopefully, I will feel guilty enough about how short this chapter is to get the next one up ASAP. Happy 2010!


	22. 22

OKAY, AN UPDATE \o/ Thanks to everyone for sticking with this fic! I always appreciate your feedback, criticism, and reviews. Also, thanks to Q for reading and critiquing :')

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Ichigo didn't move from where he sat, and simply watched Grimmjow's approach. Ichigo knew he had to face this situation eventually, and putting it off would only make it worse in the long run. But he didn't really feel ready to deal with this right now, not when his pulse was quickening just by seeing the Espada. The stupid fucker had such easy power over Ichigo just from simple attraction; it wasn't fair. Ichigo knew he couldn't stop it, but at least he could control it.

"Oi, what the fuck?" Grimmjow snapped, eyes narrowed and his movements stiff and angry.

_Good_, Ichigo thought. He'd take the familiar over Grimmjow's earlier affectionate behavior. Ichigo knew it was most likely only the result of losing half his bodyweight in blood, but he didn't like how attractive that side of Grimmjow was to him. If he was ever honest with himself, that was what Ichigo wanted—a companion, or a friend. Maybe he'd chosen Grimmjow because he knew it'd never be that way between them. Ichigo would never be conflicted over where his duty lay when it came down to it, except that now he _was_.

"Back on your own two feet, I see."

"Ha-hah." Grimmjow scoffed. "_Very_ funny."

"Aizen fixed that fast."

"And your bedside manner sucks, shithead! I come back all banged up, and the first thing I gotta do is chase you down? What's your problem?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Ichigo muttered.

"Oh yeah? Well, I'm asking now, so start talking before I kick your ass."

Nel sighed beside them, "It amazes me, Grimmjow, why Ichigo wouldn't want to have anything to do with you, based on this conversation alone."

"You stay outta this," Grimmjow said, stabbing a vindictive finger at Nel. "And you-" he turned his glare at Ichigo. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "C'mere."

Ichigo snorted. "Where? I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You really wanna talk about this in front of Nosy Nel? Your choice."

Nel fixed the other Espada with a simpering smile, but Ichigo knew what he meant-this wasn't the type of conversation to be aired in public. He followed Grimmjow back to the entrance and into the hallway, far enough from Nel that she couldn't overhear. More and more of Aizen's forces were beginning to assemble, and Ichigo knew the two of them talking would be horribly conspicuous.

Grimmjow glared at him, settling his weight on his uninjured leg. "You gotta fucking problem, huh?"

"Only the same one as always."

"That's funny, cause you sure didn't seem to have much of a _problem_ not too long ago." Grimmjow took a step forward, into Ichigo's space. "In fact, I remember you being pretty fucking happy to see me, or am I wrong about that?"

"You're not wrong, I just realized my mistake."

"Oh yeah, and which mistake was that?"

Ichigo crossed his arms over his chest, "The one where I started thinking of you as a normal person, and not someone who spent time gloating over killing people I care about."

"Aw, what?" Grimmjow sniggered. "What were you really expecting, huh? You think I was gonna change, just for you?"

"I'm not that stupid!" Ichigo snapped, his temper flaring. He didn't like being made fun of, even when he was wrong. He hadn't expected Grimmjow to change, but Ichigo would be damned if he put up with it being rubbed in his face.

"Seems pretty stupid to me. Seems like you had plenty of fucking time to figure this out, and now you don't like what you got." He took another pace towards Ichigo, and Ichigo could almost feel his hackles raise. Grimmjow was backing him into a corner, same as always, but if the arrancar expected him to hold back for whatever reason, he was dead wrong. Grimmjow continued, "You don't get to kick up a hornet's nest and then say you're sorry; you don't get to _change_ your fucking _mind_ about it-"

"Yes, I can. And you'd better listen to me or I'll kick you ass."

"'Cause you've done such a great job at that all this time."

"Maybe I just needed the proper motivation," Ichigo snarled, glaring hotly. He felt tense, ready for a fight if that was what Grimmjow pushed him into. It was probably exactly what Ichigo needed, to clear the air between them and set things back onto their proper course. He needed to remind himself of who Grimmjow was. Ichigo wanted anything that he could hold onto that would bury the attraction still burning through him.

Grimmjow's entire body seemed rigid, and Ichigo could almost feel the arrancar's reiatsu crackling. "You really wanna go back to having everything like it was before, nothing in between to mess each other up?"

Ichigo unclenched his teeth, only for an instant. "Yes."

"Fine."

"Good."

Ichigo was almost amazed by how quickly the arrancar acquiesced, until Grimmjow grabbed a fistful of Ichigo's vest-top and yanked him forward before slamming him bodily into the wall. Ichigo felt it crack, and was twisting out of the other man's grip like a snake just as Grimmjow's fist whipped into the spot his head had been a moment before, blowing a hole in the corridor. He should've expected this to happened, honestly-Grimmjow was too much of a thick-headed, immature prick to take no for an answer, but Ichigo had plenty of pent-up rage of his own to dish out. He'd much prefer convenient target than for it to fester inside of him.

He spun around to Grimmjow's back and punched him solidly in a kidney. The arrancar grunted, but twisted on the ball of his foot to catch the loose, high-collar of Ichigo's vest, yanking it hard and Ichigo found his feet leaving the floor as Grimmjow tossed him out the newly-made hole in the wall. He spun for a dizzying second; they were pretty high up, at least several stories, and Ichigo leapt from different pieces of shattered masonry as they fell along with him.

He'd barely gotten to his feet in time to see Grimmjow following him to the ground; the arrancar landed awkwardly, and rolled heavily in the sand. Ichigo could tell that Grimmjow's still-healing leg was hindering him as he stood unsteadily, clearly favoring one side.

"You sure you want to pick a fight with me right now, Grimmjow?"

"Che, don't lie, you're aching for this as bad as I am. I can smell it coming off of you," Grimmjow spat.

"This is hardly fair-"

"Bullshit! It's finally fair," Grimmjow challenged. "I'll beat you with only one leg, and then you'll go crying foul about it anyway, saying you couldn't do any better because your powers're jacked up. You don't get to chicken-shit your way outta this, not this time."

"Then have it your way!" Ichigo didn't waste another second and charged, ducking under his fists. He really _did_ want a fight, he'd wanted to smack Grimmjow's grinning face ever since it'd proven to be such an able reminder of what the arrancar really was-the enemy, one that Ichigo had been more addicted to that his own freedom or escape. Ichigo managed to get in a couple of good hits, but not without Grimmjow's reach finding him and splitting his lip.

They stumbled apart and Ichigo wiped at his bloody mouth. "This is how it should be, anyway."

"S'not what you spent the last few weeks trying to prove," Grimmjow responded, testing his bearings. Ichigo hadn't purposefully aimed for the arrancar's wound, but he'd be damned if he treated Grimmjow gently. "Or is that all you really do, huh? Play _games_. You can't back anything up, so you just fuck around with people's heads."

"That's not it, dumbass!" Ichigo shook his head in frustration. "I wasn't messing with you, at least not on purpose."

"You think I fucking believe that, after everything?" Grimmjow jumped at him, faster than Ichigo had anticipated and they traded blows. "And you couldn't _mess_ me up."

"You're acting pretty messed up, if you ask me," Ichigo snorted.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet!" Grimmjow managed to clip him in the ribs hard enough that Ichigo lost his breath, staggering, and Grimmjow caught him by his hair. "I knew this was what you were after, all this time. Just trying to find any way you could to win. It's such a fucking shame, shinigami, but there ain't any part of me you could hurt!"

"You sure you're trying to convince me of that, or yourself?" Ichigo fired back, skittering out of Grimmjow's grasp and using his momentum to slam bodily into the other man, snaring them both. Grimmjow collapsed, off-balance from his bad leg, and they rolled haphazardly.

The arrancar clawed at him and Ichigo responded with hard punches against anything he could reach, landing on top of the other man, his head spinning and covered with sand. He righted himself, shaking off the dizziness not a moment before Grimmjow caught a handful of his collar and jerked Ichigo's face down. His mouth was wet and open against Ichigo's, and their teeth met with a solid crack, but the first touch of Grimmjow's tongue had all of Ichigo shivering forward like he was coming apart. His body seemed to have a mind of its own, and instead of beating the fuck out of Grimmjow like he sorely wanted to, Ichigo's fingers were sliding into blue hair while their mouths worked busily against one another.

"Stupid bastard," Ichigo whined, in between swipes of his tongue. Fuck, his dick was already getting hard, and there wasn't any hiding it-not with Grimmjow pinned under him by Ichigo's spread legs. How could this happen this easily? His body was still screaming with adrenaline, turning hot but not with anger. It didn't seem to matter as much, which was exactly what worried Ichigo; how was it even possible to get this twisted around just by the way Grimmjow was moving against him, one hand snaking under Ichigo's clothing and up the skin of his stomach.

"This's better," Grimmjow murmured, and rolled the both of them, shaking Ichigo out of whatever trance he'd gotten swept into-just in time for Grimmjow to suck kisses down his throat and leave him reaching to pull the other man closer. "Knew you wanted this, you just like making it _hard_ on me, don'tcha?"

Ichigo had to try twice before he could find his voice, "We can't be doing-this-"

"Shut up, yes we can," Grimmjow hissed, choosing just that moment to work his thigh up against Ichigo's hard cock. "Your skin, fuck, I have to taste it again." He was shoving the hem of Ichigo's shirt up and following after it with his mouth, tongue wet against Ichigo's quivering muscles. His body arched treacherously, aching for more contact, and Ichigo knotted a hand in Grimmjow's hair to pull him up and mash their lips together.

Ichigo felt slightly drunk, either from the excitement of their fight or what it'd turned into. His anger had leached away, and it was annoying that he couldn't seem to find it in himself to care. Fuck, maybe he'd never bothered being attracted to anyone else before because on some subconscious level, Ichigo'd known that he would've been a complete basketcase about it, unable to resist. Then Grimmjow's fingers dug into a tender spot on Ichigo's ribs as they traveled over them. The pain was enough to straighten Ichigo's mind, flipped upside-down as it was, and he bit the other man, squirming away.

"This has to stop," Ichigo said, gasping and catching a fistfull of Grimmjow's hair to hold the other man away.

"Why, huh? Why's it gotta stop?"

Ichigo almost scoffed, "Because you hurt my friends! You'll probably kill them next time!" He twisted their bodies, wrenching Grimmjow's head to the side at the same time and the arrancar fell on his back with a heavy gust of breath. "And whatever there is between us ends when you hurt people I care about, and then gloat about it to my face!"

To his surpise, Grimmjow laughed; Ichigo could feel it reverberating throughout his body as he lay over Grimmjow. "Some _friends_," he sneered, and grabbed Ichigo's throat. "They leave you here all alone, and don't even come after you? You don't need enemies with _friends_ like that."

"Staying here was my decision!"

"Che, and would you listen to anyone else who made the same one, huh? You make bad excuses for yourself all the time, shinigami. The ones you make for others are even worse!"

Ichigo didn't listen to another thing coming out of that sneering face, and slammed his fist into Grimmjow's mouth, hard; he could feel the skin on his knuckles split. "You don't know me at all!" he snapped, and worried for a second about who he was trying to convince.

Of _course_ his friends were coming. He would do the same for them. He volunteered to be left behind; Soul Society was clearly reforming their forces and could be blamed for taking so long to find him. Anything Grimmjow said was a lie. Ichigo repeated every truth in his mind as he cracked his fist repeatedly into Grimmjow's face.

"Fucking-" Grimmjow snarled, and snatched Ichigo's hand as it whipped back, clasping his fingers and Ichigo felt two of them break with a sickening, gristly pop. He yelped and jerked away; Grimmjow used the motion to flip them until Ichigo was prone beneath him. He slammed Ichigo flat and reeled back, mouth dripping red. "Fuck, stop hitting me!"

"No!" Ichigo snapped his head upwards and it cracked against the bridge of Grimmjow's nose.

"Goddammit, you little fucker-"

Ichigo tried to throw him off, but Grimmjow's teeth snapped at his face, snarling like a mad dog. Ichigo could feel panic leap in his stomach—but then Grimmjow was flying off of him and skidding in the sand several yards away. Ichigo scrambled to his feet.

"That's quite enough of that," Aizen said, very calmly. One hand was pointed towards Grimmjow, and Ichigo realized that the other shinigami had thrown the man using kidoh. "Grimmjow. I did not repair your leg only to have you damage it again so recklessly."

Grimmjow got to his feet as well, glaring angrily, but he didn't respond. Aizen tilted his head to the side in patient expectation. "Ulquiorra is ready to give his report. You did not respond to my summons."

"Sorry," Grimmjow said shortly. He glanced away; his mouth and nose werei bleeding freely and Ichigo's hand ached fiercely from causing it. He was annoyed at Aizen from stopping their fight, with nothing resolved except fresh wounds and old ones resurfaced.

"Well?" Ichigo could see Aizen's eyes narrow. "Leave. I will bring Kurosaki along in a moment."

Grimmjow nodded with a jerk of his head, spitting a stream of blood and spit into the sand before disappearing in a burst of static. Ichigo realized that left him alone with Aizen; he wasn't sure which of the two he'd rather be stuck with. Aizen turned to him with his enigmatic smile. His calmness seemed strangely out of place for what had been happening only minutes before. Ichigo was still breathing heavily, and his hand felt painful and swollen, fingers sticking out a perverse angles.

Aizen approached him. "Please, let me see," he said, holding out a single hand. Ichigo didn't want to, but it would be stupid to refuse, and he placed his own in the other man's, trying not to wince.

"Sharp, aren't they?" Aizen said. Ichigo knew he was talking about the mask; it had scraped his knuckles raw and broken at least one, which bulged grotesquely. "Especially Grimmjow's. I'm quite surprised this is the first time he's injured you."

"It's not the first," Ichigo said, though there was some truth to Aizen's words—through all their fighting since he'd come here, Ichigo hadn't gotten banged up too badly, except when they'd fought other hollows. Even then, it hadn't entirely been Grimmjow's fault.

"But he is strangely careful. More so than I would've expected." Aizen's other hand closed over Ichigo's, and he could feel a warmth form. More kidoh, Ichigo imagined, and felt the pain ease even as he thought it. "Such restraint is…it is quite uncharacteristic of him."

"What're you trying to suggest? Because I really doubt it was intentional."

Aizen smiled slightly, raising one eyebrow. "How cynical, Kurosaki."

"I know better than to think anything else."

"Your fingers are broken," Aizen said, matter-of-factly. "I will have to straighten them."

Ichigo scowled, but nodded; even though his wound felt improved already, he didn't like accepting help from the other shinigami. He winced as Aizen pulled his fingers back into place, but the pain only lasted a moment. Ichigo grumbled to distract himself, "You're the one who stuck us in this fight in the first place."

"And you are performing admirably," Aizen said, and began to walk, still holding Ichigo's hand. Ichigo followed, feeling slightly foolish. "Another welcome surprise. I didn't anticipate that Grimmjow would behave himself so well for this long."

"He's destroyed half of the complex chasing after me, how is that well-behaved?"

Aizen gave a quite, murmuring laugh. "But that is _all_ he's done. And for Grimmjow, that is quite good. I rather expected he would've killed you within the first week."

"_Excuse_ me?" Ichigo stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at the other man's amused expression.

"Truly, Kurosaki? I only hoped that you would serve as a well-deserved lesson for him. Grimmjow is a very useful soldier because he's so effective, but he has no self-control." Aizen shrugged dismissively. "Accidentally killing you would've been a very valuable experience, purely because you are so dear to him."

"But you said at the start, that I could take his rank if I won—"

"Well, I certainly doubt you would've put up a decent fight if you'd been told the situation in honest terms, would you?" Aizen said it as though the truth was completely obvious, and Ichigo felt incredibly stupid—and incredibly _pissed off_.

Ichigo scowled, focusing on the traitor's words more than their implications. "And I'm not _dear_ to him anymore than he is to me. By which I mean, not at all."

"On the contrary," Aizen said, and resumed walking towards one of the main structures of Las Noches. Back to the audience chamber, with its fresh damage. "Grimmjow has very few things he cares for. He really has no need or use for friends, but will gladly take an enemy. I know for a fact that he would be quite distraught to lose an opponent as cunning as yourself."

"_Thanks_," Ichigo said, rolling his eyes.

"You're very welcome."

Ichigo could feel his shoulders hunching up on themselves; never had he truly appreciated how annoying the other man's saccharine condescension could be. "Why are you telling me this?"

Aizen glanced at him, eyes smiling. "Rough edges have developed. It is in my best interests to smooth them over, lest I lose even more of my domain in another rampage."

"You could just kill me, or let him kill me, and it'd be just as good."

"But then Grimmjow would be bored. And, as I'm sure you've noticed, that is never a good thing to have."

"Why do you keep him, if he's such a pain in the ass?"

Aizen laughed shortly, and Ichigo regretted putting things in such blunt terms. But he wasn't about to start bullshitting diplomacy with a traitor; Ichigo knew not to trust anything that came out of the other man's mouth.

"Grimmjow is a very efficient weapon to have in one's arsenal. I would be foolish to dispose of him." He released Ichigo's hand, and turned towards him. They'd stopped inside a building, it was cool and dark, but Aizen's eyes shone in the dim light. "Consider it in this way: in a battle, do you hate the sword that cuts you? Of course not—you hate the man holding that sword."

Ichigo didn't say anything, and merely stared in return, waiting.

"If you hate anyone, you should hate me," Aizen said. "Grimmjow is only a tool, put to use."

"It's dangerous to ask for my hate," Ichigo responded.

The other shinigami only shrugged, "I wouldn't ask for it if I felt threatened by it."

Ichigo could feel his teeth grit together in annoyance; he didn't like being treated like a child, and found to be just as threatening. If Aizen wanted him to hate him, he already had that—Ichigo realized one other thing he'd started to lose track of, and that was his proper enemy, something larger than his petty rivalry with Grimmjow. Though the arrancar was the immediate focus of Ichigo's attention, he wasn't the one he should be worried about defeating.

Ichigo had to get out of this place, he realized—it was making him crazy, in more ways than he'd ever thought possible.

"Please join us for witnessing the report," Aizen said, gesturing through a doorway. He released Ichigo's hand, "I'm sure you'll be quite interested in seeing how the situation in Karakura has developed."

Ichigo knew when he was being dismissed. He flexed his newly-fixed fingers and choked down any words of gratitude he would've had. Aizen didn't deserve them. Instead, he marched back towards Aizen's audience room; other arrancar had begun to assemble, waiting for their lord and master. Ichigo saw Grimmjow on the other side of the chamber—he'd cleaned up his face, at least, and his eyes matched Ichigo's figure as soon as he walked through the doorway. A weapon held by Aizen; it would be easier to consider the other man in those terms. Easier for Ichigo to rationalize his many issues, and he wondered why Aizen had become involved in the first place—he doubted it had anything to do with keeping Las Noches intact.

Ichigo wasn't sure what he wanted most, as he crossed the room to sit beside Nel—_like hell_ was he going to go to Grimmjow, not after the fight they'd just had. Ichigo knew he could have what he wanted: Grimmjow, without all of the tangled problems that came with him, if he just believed what Aizen said. But the terms the other shinigami had put things in seemed too neat, and made too much sense. Ichigo didn't believe them for a minute, but it was either that, or fight Grimmjow until they both broke. Ichigo didn't like how eager he was to accept Aizen's rationalizations; it was next to impossible for Ichigo to ever get _both_ of the things he wanted. That he was so close to having one of them was frightening enough.


End file.
